Testament
by ugahill
Summary: An encounter with a new culture leaves the Atlantis Expedition uncertain about their future. But when the head of the expedition, Elizabeth Weir, is kidnapped, desperation must overcome doubt--or run the risk of losing one of their own.
1. Outbound

"Where did you say you met these people, again?" John Sheppard glanced over at Elizabeth Weir as the Stargate's final Chevron clicked into place. He'd only returned from the mainland a few minutes ago, but had arrived to find an entire military team on standby, and Elizabeth preparing for a journey through the Stargate.

Weir smiled at him, hands clasped over her TAC vest, as the blue matter stream erupted into the center of the Atlantis Gate Room. "They contacted us. According to Major Lorne, they've know of Atlantis's, er, _existence_, for some time."

"Existence as in 'before nuclear bomb' or after?"

"As in after. I believe their explanation was the same as the one that tipped off the Genii."

"Oh, well, that makes everything all right then," John replied.

"Don't worry, Colonel. Apparently they come highly recommended."

"Yeah, well so did Lucius Lavin. I don't think we have to be reminded how _that_ turned out."

Elizabeth's mouth twisted into a frown. "No, we don't."

"You said Lorne made the contact."

"Yes. He reported in an hour ago, while you were gone. They approached his team on M1M-136—Neron, I believe it's called by its inhabitants—looking for trading partners. According to him, they're harmless. And apparently, descendants of the Ancients."

"Well, that explains…this…" he nodded at the hastily cobbled together military force. He had a sneaking suspicion that had he not come back early, they would have left without him.

"Don't worry, Colonel. We wouldn't have left without running it by you first," returned Elizabeth, one eyebrow raised.

He tossed her a wry grin, masking his surprise. After three years, he would expect people would know him _well_, but…was he really becoming that transparent? "Well, better safe than sorry."

"Exactly."

"With that in mind…are you sure you want to come along? Considering the last Ancient 'descendants' we ran across…"

A shadow crossed her face, and John hesitated, hating the reminder. But it was a necessary evil—Elizabeth had never been good at putting her own welfare above the expeditions' aims of discovery and exploration.

"Well," she replied after a moment, "these people don't appear to be of the Replicator variety. Major Lorne stated they passed all scans and tests with flying colors."

"Oh, well if it was with flying colors—wait…they're not trying to ascend, are they? Because I'm not really that eager to meet up with that type of descendant, either."

"I HOPE not," came an exasperated reply behind them. "If I find out I've just handed Zelenka a new biolab full of wondrous discoveries because I was forced into a meeting with 'release your burden' wannabes, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"I'll bear that in mind," Elizabeth said with a quirked smile.

Rodney McKay stopped strapping on his vest long enough to make a face. "I wasn't talking to…never mind. We have any idea how far away this settlement is?"

"Lorne told us a short walk from the gate."

"Short as in pleasant walk, or short as in 'civilians and scientists should have brought a jumper?'"

"Somewhere in between, I think."

"Which means if you faint from hunger and exhaustion, it wouldn't be too much trouble for the rest of us non-civilians to carry you," John said with a grin.

"Oh yes. Highly amusing. I'll have you know that the last time we went for one of these 'short walks' I had blisters the size of golf balls."

"You did bring a change of socks for this, right?"

"You know what…!"

"Doctor Weir?" interrupted the soft voice of Teyla Emmagan. The Athosian had entered the gate room alongside Rodney and Ronan Dex, the fourth member of John's team. "I believe we are ready."

Elizabeth exchanged a knowing glance with Teyla, who had an uncanny ability to single-handedly get the others on her team back on task. "Thank you." She turned to John. "Are _you_ ready, Colonel?"

"Now that I'm caught up, sure. What's not to like about marching into a situation with no idea what you're getting into? My favorite kind of day." John raised his P-90, nodding at Elizabeth, who responded with an excited smile. "Let's go make some new friends."

* * *

M1M-136 was cold—a great deal colder than John had expected, despite the relative warmth of his military issue jacket. The wind was biting, dropping the already frigid air well below freezing, and the effect was immediate on the team, many of the marines pulling out of their protective stances to preserve body warmth.

"Oh come on!" Rodney complained, his jacket already pulled up over his mouth. "Lorne couldn't have mentioned we'd be traveling to Antarctica on this little expedition?"

"This isn't Antarctica," John replied, pulling his own weapon in a little closer to his body.

"I know, been there!"

"Yeah, me too—and not in a secret underground bunker with heaters around every corner."

Rodney glared at him over the top of his coat collar.

"How far did Lorne say it would be?" Ronon's husky voice had a little edge to it, probably because of the cold, though with Ronon you could never really tell.

"Not too far, I think—a short march from the gate," replied Elizabeth, red patches spreading across her skin.

"Not short enough," mumbled McKay.

John ignored his colleague's griping and tapped the radio set in his ear. "Major Lorne, this is Colonel Sheppard. Report your position."

A hiss of static greeted them; John turned to Elizabeth, who watched him apprehensively. "Lorne, I repeat, this is Sheppard. Report your position."

Nothing came across the common radio channel except more fuzz. A high pitched whine behind him indicated Ronon had switched his gun from stun to kill, and for once John wasn't all that sorry for the Satedan's aggressive tendencies.

Footsteps approached from the distance; Ronon moved alongside him swiftly, shielding Weir. The marine detail raised their weapons, the anticipation of attack, ingrained in all of them, replacing the surprise at the change in temperature. John felt his own blood begin to pulse, warmth spreading through him, as the footsteps drew closer.

"Colonel!"

A familiar voice cut through the crisp air and John eased his finger from the trigger. Evan Lorne broke through the tree line, his own weapon at the ready, though his handsome young face wore none of the tension of the others around him. "Ma'am."

Elizabeth nodded at him, a small smile on her face. "Hello, Major."

"Sorry for the lack of radio contact—I thought I heard you calling out, but something in the atmosphere prevents short range radio frequency transmissions."

"No radio—was any of your other equipment affected?"

"No sir, just the radios. They pick up interference about ten feet from the DHD."

John relaxed a bit more; some of the other marines eased their stances, though Ronon remained observant and cautious. "How far away is the camp?"

"The village is about 100 paces to the East. Within shouting distance, at least."

John nodded, motioning to two of the marines. "Stay within radio range of the gate, in case we need to call home." He turned to keep pace with Lorne, who was already moving away, the rest of the group following. "So what's the status of our new 'friends'?"

"They call themselves Immarians, sir. Their home world is on the outer edge of the galaxy, but they apparently travel around Pegasus in search of trade and alliance."

"And you mentioned they had ties to the Ancients?" asked Elizabeth. "How closely descended are they?"

Lorne turned, his appearance outwardly placid, though with a hint of good-natured kindness. "I don't believe they're close to the real thing, Ma'am, but they share a lot of traits with them. They have technology and equipment that is similar to items we've found in Atlantis but they don't refer to themselves as Ancients. They treat them in the same manner a lot of people in the Pegasus treat them."

"As the Ancestors," said Teyla quietly.

"Sort of? But they don't seem to revere them, as some of the cultures we've found. It's more like they consider themselves directly related."

"Oh, well, it's good to know they're not arrogant," Rodney chirped from beneath the wall of his turtleneck. "Only _related_."

Lorne's congenial grin faded a tick, but he pushed forward through the sparse, tall trees, leading the group down a hill into a well-hidden dell, where a few wood built cabins, puffing gray smoke, were nestled at the bottom. Two marines stood guard outside one of the cabins, acknowledging Lorne and John as they approached.

"Through here, Ma'am," Lorne said, opening the door and stepping in before Elizabeth. She glanced over at John, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. He shook his head at her, letting her pass before him into the warmth of the tiny room.


	2. Exchange

One thing Rodney McKay tried to emphasize to his science teams, no matter what nature of project they were working on, was basics

One thing Rodney McKay tried to emphasize to his science teams, no matter what nature of project they were working on, was _basics. _The basic, fundamental principles of the experiment; the basic, fundamental series of instruction; the basic, fundamental nature of the outcome. It seemed an easy way to ensure that everyone was on the same page, and nothing went horribly, terribly wrong—an instance that seemed to occur on Atlantis a lot more frequently than it should.

Which was why he could not understand the failure of Lorne to mention the basic, fundamental principle of cold as it applied to M1M-136. Two seconds to mention 'cold world' would have been sufficient to prepare them all for this miserable, Siberian atmosphere, a cold barely staved off by the tiny fire inside the cabin, where Rodney was moving from side to side in an attempt to ward off the hypothermia that would likely take hold any minute.

Elizabeth, Teyla and Sheppard moved forward towards Lorne's strange guests, closer to the fire and away from the drafty, thin-paned windows. A young man bundled in leather and furs brushed past Elizabeth, heading towards Sheppard. "I am Karon. Leader of Atlantis, we bring you greetings."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in amusement. "Do you?"

"Yes…from the home world of Immaria."

"Well, that's very nice of you. Though you should be directing them _that _way."

The young man turned, studying Elizabeth with a frown. "To the female?"

Weir's eyebrow rose, tossing him a look that bordered between amused and vaguely annoyed. Rodney exchanged a glance with Ronon, who shrugged. He wasn't even wearing a coat, damn him.

"This is the head of Atlantis, Doctor Elizabeth Weir."

"The _female._"

Rodney's stiffened, Ronon doing the same. Something about the man's tone irritated him—reminding him of those old, conservative films where the men wore top hats and husbands and wives slept in separate beds. Sheppard shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes. The _female_. If you want something from us, you're going to have to talk to _her._"

"I see. How very odd," the young man turned back towards Elizabeth, who crossed her arms. "Well, then…miss…I bring you greetings from Immaria."

"You can refer to me as Doctor Weir," Elizabeth replied in a flat tone. Definitely more annoyed than amused. "It is a pleasure to meet you and your people."

Karon glanced around his party of five, gesturing at the others. "They are Sita, Eylos, Dravan, and Fasir. We had long heard of the return to life of the Ancestors' great city, and had hoped to encounter your people at one time or another. We were fortunate to come across your representative here on Neron."

"We are fortunate you did as well," returned Elizabeth, forcing a congenial smile.

"Atlantis is alive again," said the one who'd been called Eylos. "The Alterans have returned to their home."

"In a manner of speaking," said Weir guardedly. Rodney knew she was thinking the same as he—never in Pegasus had a culture referred to the Ancients by their given name. "We discovered Atlantis on our travels, thanks to information left to us by the Ancients—Alterans. Some of our members are of their descent; they possess the ability to use Ancient technology, or to activate it."

Karon's thin smile faded. "You are not all of Alteran descent? They did not send you to raise the city?"

"The Alterans have not existed for many millennia," returned Weir. "They left behind descendants on our home world, but those who did not perish in a plague Ascended to a higher plane of existence. They exist now as forms of energy."

"But they did not guide you."

The expression on Sheppard's face had shifted from annoyed to extremely irritated. "If you're wondering whether they left behind An Ancient's Guide to Raising Atlantis, no, they didn't. But they did give us a heads up on a few things that allowed us to connect the dots."

"Including their bloodline. Many members of our expedition are descended from Alteran ancestors. They have the ability to utilize all of the equipment they left behind."

Karon regarded her darkly. "And you are one of these?"

Elizabeth sighed irritably. "No. I am not."

"Then what right have you to lead an expedition to the Alterans' ancient city, when you are not a descendent of theirs? It is a sacrilege."

"Hey, hey wait a minute," interjected Sheppard, stepping between them. "We came out here to discuss trade, and possibly alliance, not for you to tell us what you think we should and shouldn't be doing in our own city."

"Atlantis is not _your _city. It was the city of the Alterans, our ancestors, and was left to be reactivated by their descendants, not by those who would desecrate their grounds."

"These people have desecrated nothing," Teyla said. He caught an amused smirk from Ronon at the expression on her face. "They respect everything the Ancestors left behind on Atlantis. It was the Ancestors' wish that Atlantis be reborn sometime in the future. As they are no longer of this world, it would fall to those capable of understanding their technology and their words."

"And these are the people they believed worthy of such an honor?"

"I believe the Ancestors had no plans for who would carry on their legacy. They were a people concerned with their own existence and Ascension."

"And you believe they have forsaken their great works because they grew unconcerned with them? This is arrogance."

"Look, I'm sure we could have a really nice, long, ethical debate on whose genes make them more worthy to inherit the Ancient technology," snapped Rodney, growing further irritated at Karon's superciliousness, "but I think the principle of 'we got there first' applies rather nicely in this case."

Elizabeth threw him an exasperated look, then turned back to the Immarians. "I am sorry you feel we've desecrated the Ancients' city. I can assure you that has never been our purpose. We are one of the races left behind after they Ascended, and are one of the few who have been able to research their history and their technology to the point where we could gain an understanding of what they were like. All we hope for in inhabiting Atlantis is to discover what other wonderful contributions they made, so that we may use them for the future—and against the Wraith."

"Then in that, we share a common goal," replied one of the girls. Nita? Sira? Karon shot her a disgruntled look, which she returned with an emotionless frown. "You are entitled to represent the Council on matters of diplomacy, Karon. In terms of War and battles, the province lies with myself and Dravan." She gestured to the other female of the party.

Rodney glanced at Sheppard, who met his surprised expression with an interested look. _Female warriors?_

If Elizabeth seemed as surprised, she didn't show it. "We have been fairly successful in using both our technology and that of the Ancient to defeat the Wraith. While we have not yet discovered a way to eliminate them completely, we are developing ways that could be used to counter their numbers and technologies."

"Of these advancements I am sure our Council of Elders would be interested," replied the girl.

"Then perhaps I can address them and—"

"NO." Karon's expression darkened menacingly, approaching Elizabeth with a few quick steps. "A female addressing the Council…"

"Back OFF," snarled Sheppard, shouldering between the young man and Elizabeth. A few of the marines wore murderous expressions.

"Colonel," Elizabeth put a hand on Sheppard's shoulder, moving aside of him. "I apologize, again, for offending your customs."

"What Karon means to say is that our code dictates no woman should appear in Hall of Elders or the Hall of Records. The same holds true for a man addressing the Warrior Guild. These laws were established by the Alterans, to preserve our rightful places in Immarian society," said Sita.

"Then perhaps we can reach a compromise. I would be willing to send an emissary—a man—to your Elders to speak of the situation on Atlantis currently."

"We would need to see Atlantis," said Karon tersely. "No 'emissary' would be sufficient for our Elders to understand whether Atlantis has been rightfully entrusted."

"Oh, of COURSE they wouldn't," sneered Rodney, ignoring Sheppard's warning glance. "Of course you'd just have to see Atlantis for yourselves. Never mind the fact that it's only the most advanced, wealthy city in this galaxy. Or that it's home to secrets of which your culture has probably never dreamed. Or that it happens to have knowledge the likes of which your backwards…"

"Rodney!" barked Elizabeth, her eyes narrowed.

He crossed his arms, lifting his chin. "I was just pointing out…"

"Fine." She turned back to the Immarians. "You are welcome to Atlantis, Karon, you and the rest of your group. You've already been tested by my team and they've informed me you are fine to pass through to the city—though more tests will have to be conducted when you arrive. If you wish to wait, you are welcome to contact us sometime in the future."

"We'll go now," Karon said, giving a cursory glance at his party. "We are sufficiently prepared."

"I'm not sure WE are," Rodney mumbled. The temperature in the cabin had dropped considerably since their arrival, and not all of it due to the fierce cold.


	3. Favors

_Ask and ye shall receive...for all those asking about my continuation of this story, yes, here it is! I promise I will finish it--but work has been hectic and hasn't let me flesh out the earlier parts of the saga as quickly as I wanted to. They are well to being developed now, however, and I promise to do what I can to keep it going. Thanks for the patience and the reviews!_

--/--

John sighed, crossing a leg over his knee

John sighed, crossing a leg over his knee. Through the glass of Elizabeth's office, he could see a contingent of marines keeping a watchful eye on the Immarians, who were awaiting clearance to be moved to the infirmary. Elizabeth had opted to conference about their new guests in private, rather than heading up the grand tour.

Not that he blamed her for the hasty retreat, all things considered. Just seeing Karon, scowl firmly in place, was enough to send a wash of anger flooding through him.

He turned to her, seated restlessly in her desk chair and scribbling something on a data pad. "Well, this seems to be going well."

She glanced up at him with a sour expression. "Not helping."

"Sorry," he replied, tossing back a smile. "Just making an observation."

"An apt one, seems to me," Rodney said dryly. He leaned forward, laying a hand on Elizabeth's broad desk. "Remind me again who thought it was a good idea to make 'friends' with these people?"

"Not everyone is going to understand our presence here, Rodney," Elizabeth replied with a small smile. "I'm actually surprised we've only run into one culture that's had an objection to our inhabiting Atlantis."

"At least insofar as we're squatting," said John.

"Right…so they just hate us for living in the city, as opposed to hating us in general." Rodney said snidely.

"Or seeing us a food source, yeah, something along those lines."

"Whatever their reason," said Elizabeth, "it serves as a reminder that there were cultures in Pegasus who may have had a more direct tie with the Ancients. The Immarians may only be one branch of those whom the Ancients deemed capable of intelligent understanding. Imagine the knowledge they may possess. If we want the chance to learn about it, we have to make sure to establish a respectful relationship."

"Meaning…we shouldn't tick them off by saying their warriors fight like girls."

Elizabeth's smile held a touch of mockery. "No. Probably not."

"What IS that, anyway?" Rodney remarked. "Their scholars are all the men, and their _women _do the fighting? Who came up with that hierarchy?"

"What…you don't think it's possible to have a warrior society composed mostly of women?" returned Elizabeth, eyebrow arching. "It's quite possible the myth of the Amazons stemmed from a society like this. And I don't think I have to remind you of Teyla's capabilities."

"I didn't say…it's just…traditionally warriors are men," said Rodney carefully, pinching his lips together. "Traditionally."

"'Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all…they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves,'" said John, assuming a philosophic tone.

"What?"

Elizabeth gave him a confused look.

"Oz books," he replied after a moment. "L. Frank Baum."

"Oz as in 'Wizard of Oz?' Ruby slippers and emerald cities?"

"They were silver slippers, actually. But yes."

"And you mock me because I like the Lord of the Rings?"

"You don't like the Lord of the Rings, you _obsess_. Besides, the Wizard of Oz is a classic."

"So is Tolkien!"

"Well," Elizabeth said, "soldier girls or not, our job here it to keep the peace with them. We've changed minds before; let's hope we can do it again." She rose from her chair, tossing one last glance at Rodney. "It would be helpful to keep the superiority complex to a minimum. Or the Immarians' soldiers aren't the only women you'll have to contend with."

--/--

Teyla Emmagan gave Sita a small, reassuring smile as Atlantis's bright scanner made its way across the Immarian's body. She appeared calm, but there was an air of unease about her, as though she expected the mechanism to suddenly lose control.

The leader, Karon, stood a slight distance apart from the rest of his group, trying to conceal his fascination with Atlantis's infirmary. Teyla knew his feeling; she too had been overwhelmed at the power and majesty of the Ancestors' great city.

Yet the boy displayed an arrogance uncharacteristic for those who were barely familiar with the Ancestors and their technologies. He observed the room as though he were impressed with the grandeur, but not the equipment.

Ronon moved up alongside her, arms crossed. He was generally distrustful of new peoples, but his dislike of the Immarians had a basis in greater than their mystery. The Satedan would never reveal as much, but the treatment of Doctor Weir by the Immarian leader had bothered him to the extent it had bothered John and Rodney, she was certain.

"This feels like a waste of time," he growled to her under his breath.

"We must give them a chance," she returned softly. "Not every culture we come across is going to be receptive to the people of Earth inhabiting the city of the Ancestors."

"I know. But they're not going to change."

"Why? Because they hold a bias against Doctor Weir?"

He glanced down at her, his face stoic. "I've heard of groups like this one. This culture wasn't made to embrace differences."

"I, too, am familiar with this type of people. But just because they have initially been distant does not mean that we will not be able to reach a compromise. I have seen the people of Atlantis reach agreement with those with whom it would seem impossible to agree."

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "They can be persistent."

"Very much."

"Still," the smile faded as he watched Karon cross his arms. "There are some things that won't change, even with persistence."

"What do you fear?"

His eyes narrowed a little as he watched the Immarian reach for Sita's hand, helping her off the bed. "Just be on your guard."

"Well now," Doctor Carson Beckett turned from the scanner's large monitor, a gentle smile on his face. "You all be glad to know you appear to be in excellent health."

"Thank you," remarked Karon, almost pleasantly. Teyla raised an eyebrow at the boy's change in demeanor. "Will we be able to move about the city now?"

"I need to go and give these results to Doctor Weir. She'll then decide what the next course of action will be."

Karon's smile faded, a dark look shrouding his eyes. "Doctor Weir? She stands above the decisions of your healers as well?"

Doctor Beckett frowned confusedly. "Aye. Doctor Weir is the head of our expedition. All decisions regarding its welfare pass through her."

"I see."

"Yes, well," Carson replied, "sit tight. I'll be right back. In the meanwhile, Teyla and Ronon here can keep you company."

He tossed them an apologetic glance and hurried out of the infirmary. Karon watched the door after the doctor had left, the dark expression still on his face.

"Are you…one of the warriors of this 'expedition'?" asked the girl named Dravan.

"I am a warrior," Teyla replied, focusing her attention on the young woman. "But I am not of this expedition. I am Athosian."

"And you, tall one?" Sita inquired, with an appraising glance at Ronon. He regarded her impassively.

"I fight."

"I have seen the markings you bear before. Are you a runner?"

His gaze hardened. "Was."

"Ronon is now a member of the Atlantis team, as I am," Teyla replied. "We find we are able to better serve our peoples assisting those who can fight enemies we were unable to resist before, such as the Wraith."

"Atlantis is able to defend against Wraith attack," Dravan stated, as though unsurprised.

"Of course it can," Karon spat, venom lacing his words. "Only those unworthy of the controlling it would run the risk of losing this city to the Wraith."

"You are correct," Teyla returned calmly. "This city remains in the hands of those who came from Earth, despite numerous attacks upon it by the Wraith and other enemies. They have defended it well."

"Have they?" Sita inquired. "Have they defended it well? Or have they benefitted from the luck of the Ancients?"

"They would say they make their own luck," Ronon returned. His stance was comfortable, but there was a fire deep within his eyes, one that challenged opposition. "As far as I've seen, that's all they've needed."

--/--

"Perfect health?" Elizabeth repeated, looking slightly defeated. Rodney didn't blame her. There was no excuse now for denying the Immarians at least a cursory glance at the city, though if it were up to him the grand tour would have been limited to the gateroom.

"They're all fine, Doctor Weir. No outstanding illnesses to report and no anomalies in their blood or their systems. They should be safe to escort around the city."

"That's…wonderful news, Carson," Elizabeth said, forcing a smile. Rodney could see Sheppard making an identical face behind her. He shook his head; sometimes he could swear that their brains travelled on the same wavelength.

Beckett started for the door, confused at the apparent lack of interest in the new visitors. "Do you want me to have them brought up here?"

Elizabeth heaved a sigh and stood. "No. We'll head down there. Thanks."

He nodded, glancing from Elizabeth to Sheppard and finally Rodney. "Right. I'll see you down there, then."

Sheppard watched for a minute as Elizabeth shuffled some papers together. "You sure you want to do this? You don't have to, you know. You could just tell them to kindly get their asses out of our city and be done with them."

A smile crept across her face, but she shook her head. "And what kind of expedition would this be if we backed away from every offensive culture we came across?"

"A smart one?" Rodney scoffed.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Don't hold back, Rodney."

"Look, what have these people got to offer us except some rustic old rules and the decaying remnants of the Ancient civilization who founded them? It's not as though it's not something we've found before! Chances are we're not going to learn anything from them. All they're going to do is stand around and annoy us with their incessant babbling about how their ideas are the only correct ones."

"Because we never hear that from _anyone_," Sheppard replied, smirking. Rodney glanced at him for a moment, raising a finger. "All I'm saying is…wait a minute—was that directed at me?"

"We're not kicking them out, Rodney," Elizabeth said, interrupting him. "We've handled worse than the Immarians before. Believe me, a little chauvinism may be unpleasant, but I'd take that over bomb-wielding madmen and replicating robots any day."

"Or life-sucking aliens," said Sheppard, following her out of the office.

"That too."

"And nobody else believes this is a colossal waste of time?"

"Walking," Sheppard echoed back.

"Fine," he muttered, following them through the control room. "But the next time one of them makes some comment about women and kitchens, don't expect me to defend you."

--/--

Elizabeth took a breath, steeling herself for what was certain to be another unpleasant round of negotiations. She'd played as nonchalant as she could about the Immarian's biases, but truthfully, the general attitude of the visitors bothered her.

They'd encountered more primitive hierarchies of male dominance in other areas of the Pegasus galaxy, but none of them had been nearly as structured as the Immarians appeared to be. Slightly rustic, as Rodney had mentioned, but they had an understanding that seemed completely out of place for a masochistic tribal society.

She glanced over at John, who strode impassively beside her, looking outwardly bored with the situation. Privately, she was glad he'd never been the chauvinistic type. He had his moments, of course—all the boys on the base did—but as a whole he was completely respectful, and even defensive, of her position on Atlantis. If he'd begun as some of the other military had, she was sure her time here would have been much more difficult than it already was.

He glanced over at her and she gave him a smile, trying to seem assured. She caught his expression change slightly, his smile tick up a notch, as they approached the infirmary doors.

The lights were completely on; the Immarians stood in a tight circle near the center of the room, chatting amongst themselves.

"Well," John said, rubbing his hands together and speaking up before she could get the chance. "How are we all feeling?"

The young male leader, Karon, poised himself. "Your healer tells us we are well and can move about the city."

"Yeah, Doctor Beckett gave you all the green light health-wise…"

"Then we would like to explore the City of the Ancestors."

"Doctor Beckett gave you clearance. You haven't been cleared by security yet."

The boy raised an eyebrow, looking towards Elizabeth. His expression was seething. "This is something mandated by your leader as well?"

"No." John's voice took on a rough edge. His face had hardened; all traces of good humor gone. "It's mandated by me."

Karon swallowed, seeming a little taken aback. "I believed…"

"Doctor Weir is the head of Atlantis. But I'm in charge of her security and I make the calls as far as the safety of this base is concerned. As I'm not particularly fond of your attitude right at this moment, I've decided you don't get the five-cent tour."

Elizabeth smiled, glancing down at the floor. A part of her wanted to stop him, to remain the impartial negotiator and do what she'd told them she'd do; but the other part was enjoying the knight-in-shining-armor routine. Maybe, just this once, she could put diplomacy aside.

"Your people will be escorted around in small groups, for limited periods of time, accompanied by a handful of my men—let's say it's to get to know them a little better. Though you," he gestured at Karon, "since you don't seem to be too interested in chatting it up, can have a little bit of one-to-one time with Ronon over there. So we won't trouble you with that boring, mingling-type stuff."

Ronon grinned, his smile not touching his eyes.

"Any questions?"

The Immarian leader swallowed, shifting his gaze from Ronon back to the Colonel. "No. We will do as you command, Colonel Sheppard." He lifted his chin slightly, his eyes flickering to Elizabeth for a moment before he smiled politely. "Thank you for your…consideration."

--/--

John raised his hands to his hips, watching the two young warrior women leave through the Infirmary with Teyla. Rodney had already taken the two boys, who appeared to be scholars, with him to the laboratories, to show them some of the more innocuous Ancient experiments. Karon was currently seated on a medical bed, eyeing Ronon apprehensively. The Satedan had taken watch across from him, head down, arms crossed, an unpleasant smile on his face.

"I never realized you and your men were so chivalrous," Elizabeth said quietly from beside him. "I feel like I should give you my handkerchief for your P-90."

He glanced over at her, shifting uncomfortably. "Well…you know…"

A smile danced across her face. "I do." She turned, walking from the infirmary without a backwards glance at their guest. "And I appreciate it."

"They have a…_weird_…culture," he hedged. "I figured it would be easier. Not to step on your toes—or anything…"

"Don't worry. I appreciate the gesture. In fact," she said, making a face, "you are more than welcome to speak on my behalf for the rest of their time here."

"Are you giving up on being diplomatic?"

"Who, me? Never!" She drew her hands up under her chest, entwining her fingers. "I just figured it would, you know…ease tensions, perhaps…maybe speed things up, to…"

"Get them the hell out of Dodge before the sun sets?" He smirked, stopping for a moment as they reached the gateroom floor.

Elizabeth whirled his way, one eyebrow raised, a sheepish smile on her face. "Maybe."

"Right. So…I take it we're not really interested in establishing strong trade relations after all. That mean bartering food for the latest in Immarian fur fashion is off the table?"

"Nothing's ever off the table in this galaxy. Though I sense their cultural beliefs might make it a little more difficult to negotiate acceptable terms. Even for fashionable furs."

"You can always send Rodney to do the talking."

Her eyes widened, eyebrows raised playfully. "Right. That's a great idea. How to start a war in a day or less."

"Ah. He's about as arrogant as they are. It'd take him at least two days."

"Just let me know if you need anything," she replied with a soft smile, turning towards the staircase. He watched her walk up the steep steps, then started down the hall to the transporter. She was right in one respect. He couldn't leave Rodney alone with the Immarians for long.

--/--

Rodney tapped his fingers on the lab desk impatiently, watching the fellow…Eidos, Eylos, whatever his name was…study the equipment laid out for him. He'd seemed in awe—finally—at the amount of technology the expedition had brought from Earth, and was listening to Zelenka prattle on about anything and everything. The second boy, Aladdin—Rodney had thought his name sounded like something from an Arabian nights tale, anyways—was less interested in Zelenka and more fascinated by the Ancient machines that stood against the walls.

Not that Rodney blamed him. Anyone who wore furs as standard dress and walked around with sticks attached to their belts should have been gawking at forks and toothbrushes.

But he had to admit, Elizabeth's initial observations were right. Both were overwhelmed, obviously, but neither was _surprised _by the type of technology. Either the Immarians were trained not to care, or they were hiding something. Given his experiences with the Genii, he was opting to believe the latter only because the former might end up with him tied up in a hidden bunker somewhere.

Still, it didn't justify his wasting an entire afternoon playing tour guide to a pair of semi-suspicious rustics. "Finding anything of interest?"

E-boy glanced up. "Most of this equipment is fascinating. It is very dissimilar from the technology of the Alterans. Yet you have managed to incorporate it into their designs."

"Yeah, well, we didn't exactly have an Ancient instruction manual on their technology. We had to learn our own."

Aladdin stopped his perusal of an Ancient scanner console. "All of this was created without the guidance of the Alterans?"

"Most of it, yes."

"Intriguing. You have learned how to completely function without their help."

Rodney shrugged. "It wasn't that difficult. For those of average intelligence, maybe, but luckily, they have me."

The young man frowned. "And yet you still have problems with the Wraith."

Rodney rolled his eyes, feeling the irritation begin to build. "Everybody has problems with the Wraith. I don't think I have to remind you why the Ancients abandoned this city in the first place!"

"No," the young man sighed, turning his attention to the console. "You do not."

_God, the attitudes of these people! _"Look, whatever you might think, we've been able to do things here that the Ancients couldn't. We've kept it safe from the Wraith, we've defeated the Replicators, and we've managed to restore it almost completely to its former glory. We may even be able to make it fly."

"Replicators?"

He paused, finger raised. "Yes. The…nanite…things."

"We are unfamiliar with Replicators."

"Well…" Rodney thought for a moment, trying to recall the name the nanites had given themselves.

"They called themselves Asurans," said Colonel Sheppard as he entered the lab. _About time. _"Nasty little bastards."

"The Asurans?" said E-Boy. "But they are a race like ours."

Rodney started, taking a quick step back. Sheppard had frozen in place, hands ghosting over where his P-90 would normally be attached. _The one time he's not dressed out and we encounter…_

"But you were given clearance by Doctor Beckett," rasped Zelenka, watching the boys with wide eyes. "You can't…"

"Clearance for what?" asked Aladdin.

"To be moving about the city," said Sheppard, his tone cold. He tapped his earpiece. "Beckett?"

"What is going on?" Aladdin stepped towards them. Sheppard raised a finger, the expression in his eyes threatening.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Beckett's thick brogue came across the common channel. "What is it?"

"You said you tested these people for everything," Sheppard said, finger still raised.

"Aye. They've all been given a clean bill of health."

"Did you scan them for nanites?"

There was silence over the radio.

"Carson?" a stern female voice asked suddenly. _Elizabeth_. "John, what's going on?"

John shook his head, not answering until Beckett came through.

"Sorry," replied Carson. "I wanted to double check the scans. No, Colonel, they're all clean. No trace of replicator nanites or materials. What made you think that?"

"Just being cautious," Sheppard replied, eyes locked on Aladdin. "Thanks for the confirmation, Doc."

"You're welcome."

"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked again, sounding more than a little relieved at Beckett's confirmation.

"Fine," Sheppard said. "I'll tell you about it later." He tapped the radio twice, shutting off the open line.

Aladdin wore an expression of distrust. Rodney frowned. _As if he has a right to._ "Why were you so concerned a moment ago? We passed all the tests of your healers. We have been given permission to move about the city."

"That was before you associated yourself with replicating nanites!" Rodney barked, sounding a lot more high-pitched than he'd intended to.

"What are these nanites? What have they to do with the Asurans?"

"They are robots…machines. Tiny machines that have the capability of duplicating themselves at immense rates. They can create anything they need with this technology—weapons, buildings…people…"

"But such a thing would be nearly impossible," stammered E-boy.

"Try telling that to the Replicators," Sheppard said.

"How are you aware of the Asurans?" asked Zelenka, finally shoving his glasses back up his nose. "What do you know of them?"

"They were to be a companion race to the Immarians," E-boy continued. "Bred to share the wealth and technology created by the Alterans between our two peoples. But they were unable to be successfully settled and they died away."

"Boy, are your history books screwed up," Rodney muttered under his breath.

Zelenka tentatively moved forward. "The Asurans, as we know them, were an artificially created race of people," he said, his accent rolling over the words pleasantly. "They were created from nanites compiled together so extensively they were able to create a living being."

"Artificially created? That is a lie," said Aladdin. "All beings the Alterans tried to settle were of flesh and blood, as they. Their proud descendents. Their true forms."

Rodney snorted. "Yeah, well, I hate to burst your bubble, uh…uh…"

"Fasir," said Zelenka softly.

"Right, Fasir. But the Asurans are most certainly not flesh and blood. Had they _been _flesh and blood, they could not have recreated their world when the Ancients destroyed them."

For the first time, the young boy looked shocked. "Destroyed them? This is impossible. No such thing could have happened. The Asurans were our sister race. Children of the Alterans. They could not have been purposefully destroyed."

"Well, they were. Not exactly destroyed, but attempted to be."

"I…"

"I believe everything would be more easily explained if you came with us," Zelenka interrupted. "There is something you need to see."


	4. Understanding

"It is very impressive," said Dravan, as she, Teyla, Sita and their escort of marines moved out upon the East Pier. "We had heard stories of this city all our lives, but I do not believe we imagined it so large."

Teyla smiled. "I too was amazed by the magnificence of Atlantis."

"But your people were not connected with it?" asked Sita. "I believed you to be close in habitation of the city, considering your history with these people of Earth."

"The world of my ancestors—Athos—was the first planet they contacted when they arrived. We have maintained a peaceable relationship since."

"And you are a leader of your people as well?"

"Yes. Though in my absence my people are guided by a council of my fellows."

Dravan shook her head, red curls bobbing around her cheeks. "We have encountered many females of strength in our travels—but never two living within close proximity of one another."

"I am leader to my people, but on the Atlantis expedition I am the same as Ronon or any of the Earth members. Doctor Weir assumes responsibility for the safety of all within the walls of Atlantis."

"Are you not concerned about your people? Why do you still assume leadership when you do not live amongst them? Surely they would be better served with a leader whose absence is not felt."

Teyla offered a polite smile. "My people are quite safe. I am sometimes fearful for them, I admit…and I worry of their progress in my absence. But I serve them better here, fighting against the enemies that threaten them most. The weight of leadership has never sat so heavily upon my shoulders as to make me wish to pass the burden to another. And Doctor Weir does what she can to make sure they remain safe and protected."

"She is truly an admirable woman," said Sita softly. "She commands all of this, defends it against enemies like the Wraith, and still reaches out to offer protection to others."

"She has male guidance, however, Sita," said Dravan off-handedly. "It is not as though she leads them alone."

Teyla frowned. "I believe that Doctor Weir would be the same type of leader whether her advisors were male or female. She was appointed to her position by those of her people who possess the power to make such a decision, and she has remained in that position despite the many challenges faced by Atlantis. Many decisions she must make about the care and well-being of the city are decisions made by her alone."

Dravan frowned. "How very odd."

"Why is this odd? Your warriors are female, are they not? Certainly they share in the decisions of your people."

"We are the leaders as far as military situations are concerned."

"Then your warriors are only female?"

"No," Sita replied, a small smile crossing her face. "Of course we are not unaware of the greater physical advantage many males have. Among our lower ranks males and females are balanced out. But in the tactical aspect of the military, only females serve in the Warrior Guild."

"How did your society come about such a method?" Teyla asked, smiling cautiously. "Though I have encountered many societies which boast of female and male warrior guilds, I have never encountered one which prohibited men from serving as leaders."

"Long ago the Alterans realized that females had a distinct advantage in tactical maneuvering," said Sita. "They were the ones who mandated we maintain this form of governance."

"Females are by nature less excitable than men in a battle situation," Dravan added. "And our childbearing capabilities render us more protective by nature. We are perfectly built to lead and guide warriors. Especially as we rear them."

"And yet…you are not allowed to serve on the councils which determine the fate of your people outside of battle."

"In the same way we are suited for tactics is why we are not suited for politics," replied Dravan. "Females tend towards more passionate natures when family and social aspects are concerned. It makes us irrational."

"This is perhaps true, in some circumstances," Teyla replied, searching their faces. Dravan seemed stalwart; Sita slightly less so. "Yet I have found that sometimes that passion, when used properly, is very effective in preserving the lives of people one cares about. Even if it may seem irrational at the moment."

"And has your Doctor Weir has demonstrated that from time to time?" asked Dravan.

"We have all done so," Teyla replied. "And much more to our benefit that we have. There have been many times, if she had not exercised such passion, that our people would most certainly have died. There are many instances in which I owe my life to her judgment."

"Then it was lucky she does guide with such a manner," said Sita softly.

Her companion turned to her, an expression of disapproval crossing her face. "Sita."

"All cultures must be embraced, Dravan," Sita replied. "I would not petition our Elders for such a change. Yet every belief is worth hearing, and at least an attempt at understanding, even if they vary from ours."

"Now you sound very much like Elizabeth," Teyla said, smiling. "Perhaps your beliefs do not vary as much as you think."

Sita flashed a small smile. "Perhaps not."

--/--

The lights in the library were not on; the scientists of Atlantis had gotten so used to being unable to power up the room that very few remembered how valuable a resource it was. With the new Zed PM they'd acquired, Daniel Jackson wannabes could surf all they liked, but having gotten along so far without it, it seemed to go unnoticed most of the time.

Rodney stepped up to the podium and the Ancient hologram initiated, the face so disturbingly realistic it still made him cringe.

Eylos—Zelenka had cleared that name up, too—watched in wonder as the hologram went through her series of instructions about the use of the system. Fasir seemed less impressed, or at least was trying to seem so. When she'd finished, Rodney leaned forward. "Asurans. History."

The data took a moment to compile. It often surprised him how specified the research queries in the room were—maybe one of the reasons the device was little used. They'd scoured the database for information on races like the Asurans before they knew their name, but it was only after that disastrous meeting on Asuras that the database had recognized the planet and its history.

"Asurans. A preternatural race created to be artificial replicants of the Alteran race. They were developed at the behest of the scientist Pygon, and together with the advancements of the scientist Janus they were perfected to be identical clones. They were programmed initially to be warriors to fight in the war against the Wraith, but the destructive nature of the imitators became uncontrollable.

"They were destroyed in a calculated attack on the planet of Asuras, where they had been cultivated. The entire planet was razed; nothing survived."

"Shows what you know," Rodney said, as the hologram faded. "So, any questions?"

"It can't be true," whispered Eylos as Rodney turned from the dais. "The Alterans would never do such a thing, would they Fasir?"

The other Immarian turned away from the machine, arms crossed, unresponsive. He wore a look of confusion and anger—Rodney felt almost sorry for him.

Almost.

"We thought the same thing about the Ancients when we first learned about them—but, as this has aptly demonstrated, they weren't quite as perfect as they were made out to be. You get used to it after a while."

"'Get used to it?'" Fasir returned coldly, narrowing his eyes. "You show us a history in which the Alterans acted complete contrary to their natures and their morals and then expect us to accept it? Your arrogance is astonishing. Do you really think we would believe such a thing?"

"Well…yes?"

"You are a liar," the boy spat.

"Oh. Right. Because I have the time to sit around, making up stories about your Alteran demi-gods just to insult you. But that's been my plan all along, hasn't it? What with a woman leader and the unjustified breaking and entering."

"Rodney," Sheppard said, stepping towards the console. He turned to the Alterans with a look of warning, though if Rodney didn't know better, he would think the Colonel seemed almost pleased. "Look, we've shown you what you wanted to see. If you don't want to believe it, that's fine. But we can only provide you with what we know. The Asurans were created by the Ancients, but they got out of control. The Ancients had no choice but to try and get rid of them."

"But…how do you know that this was not some trick? Perhaps set up by the Alterans to protect the Asuran people?" asked Eylos, ignoring Fasir's angry glare. "You mentioned we were not listed in the database. Is it not possible this information was placed there to provide the same protection to the Asurans?"

"They're real enough," said Sheppard. "Trust me."

"That seems to be getting more difficult," Fasir said. "The more lies you show us."

"They aren't lies! What, you want us to gate you through to their world, let them deal with you? Then you'd see just what kind of liars we are. Or perhaps we should just have them infect you!"

"Rodney…"

His head was buzzing; he was aware of someone speaking to him, but he felt far too irritated to care. "You know, create a little alternative world where the Alterans were this great, benevolent race of gods and everything was hunky-dory in happy land. I doubt you'd have the same self-control as Elizabeth to be able to fight them off, so…"

"RODNEY!"

He stopped, glancing up at Sheppard, who had taken a menacing step forward, eyes blazing. The two Immarians were staring back and forth between them, puzzled.

"The history lesson is over," the Colonel snapped, turning to the Immarians. "Tour finished. We're going back to the infirmary."

Neither one of the young men replied; just let the Colonel shepherd them out of the room. Zelenka shook his head disapprovingly, matching his stride to Rodney's as they walked out of the library.

"What?" Rodney asked, feeling a little confused. "Was it something I said?"

--/--

Ronon shifted his arm, flexing his fingers to allow the blood to flow through them. The Immarian in front of him sat on the infirmary bed, apparently lost in thought, though Ronon was very well aware appearances could be deceiving.

He had neither moved nor spoken in two hours. It demonstrated a control that was admirable, though Ronon was not in the mood to be impressed. Though Karon had a discipline in his manner, his mindset was one that left much to be desired.

"Are you content here?" the boy asked suddenly.

"Why do you care?" Ronon replied after a moment.

"I am simply curious." There was true questioning in his voice, though the tone bore that edge of superiority Ronon had so often encountered in political leaders.

"Then I guess you'll have to stay that way."

"I am surprised one such as you finds leadership by a woman to be acceptable. Militaristically I suppose it could be stimulating, but she makes the political decisions as well. That cannot be pleasing to you."

"I've never cared much for politics. So long as I can fight the Wraith, I don't care who does the talking."

Karon frowned. "You put on a show of strength. But surely there must be moments that you must dislike being herded by a _woman_. Such passion of manner and irrational judgment."

Ronon stood, narrowing his eyes. Something in the kid's tone made his blood run cold. "Her judgment got me here and has kept me alive. Yours, on the other hand, isn't doing the same."

The kid's eyes narrowed. "Such loyalty from a Runner. Very strange."

The infirmary doors slid open, and John Sheppard marched in, wearing a dark look. He was trailed by the other two Immarian men, who appeared troubled and angry. McKay and Zelenka, arguing softly, lead the marine escort that brought up the rear.

Sheppard motioned for the Immarians to join their leader. "As soon as Teyla returns with your warriors, we'll escort you to the gate and dial out to your home world."

"What?" Karon asked, sliding from the bed. "But what of the negotiations your Doctor Weir spoke of? What has happened?" Ronon suppressed the urge to grab for him, tightening his stance instead.

"Deal's off." Sheppard replied.

"She promised we could examine the city—to share with our Council..."

"I'm overriding Doctor Weir for now. She may have been more willing to listen to your concerns, but you haven't convinced me that you have a lot to offer, and as you're less than willing to negotiate with our principle negotiator, this whole deal seems a little pointless."

Ronon frowned. It took a lot to set Sheppard off—and he was very obviously set off. Something must have happened.

The doors opened again, ushering in Teyla, the two females, and their marine detail.

"This is unfair," Karon continued. "You promised us access to the city of the Alterans. Now you would deny us that?"

"If you had some claim to Atlantis, you would have been here a long time ago, Captain Caveman" McKay snapped. Sheppard threw him a glare that could have melted steel, and he swallowed, looking cowed.

"I respect you feel you have a right to be here," the Lieutenant Colonel said, his tone smoothing a little, "but the fact is you've not shown any proof, other than knowing some history, that you have more than a vague connection to Atlantis at best. No more than any one with a connection to the Ancients in this galaxy has shown."

"And what if we can?" the taller of the warriors said suddenly, taking a step beyond Teyla.

Sheppard blinked, glancing over at the Athosian, then Ronon. "Well, obviously, we'd need to see it."

"That may be difficult."

"Oh, of _course_ it is," McKay snipped, then glanced at Sheppard, taking a quick step back.

"What I mean is…bringing them here may be difficult."

"Sita!" hissed Karon. She turned to him and shook her head. "We have no choice, Karon."

Sheppard looked confused. "They? Who's 'they'?"

"Who may not wish to come?" Teyla asked.

Sita glanced back at her. "The Alterans."


	5. Lost

"Wait a minute," Elizabeth said, leaning back in her chair. A familiar hollow ache spread through her chest. "They know _actual_ Ancients?"

Teyla shook her head, pretty face twisted in a confused frown. "Apparently, the Immarians have maintained some kind of contact with the Ancestors."

"How is that possible?"

"I do not know. They would speak no more of their connection with them. And they seemed in disagreement as to how much to reveal."

"It's not _impossible_," said Rodney, looking pensive. "Considering we've run into a couple here and there."

"A couple? A ship full of Ancients is not 'a couple,'" John replied from his position at her side. He seemed the most shaken up by the news; apparently he'd been giving the Immarians their farewell address when the bomb had been dropped.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that for a while."

"Well, it just happens to be relevant, _Rodney_. If these people have some group of Ancients watching over them we might be headed for the same situation."

"Are we sure about that?" Elizabeth said, glancing up at him. "I think if the Immarians heard Atlantis was being re-inhabited then any Ancients associated with them would have heard. So why haven't they returned to lay claim?"

"What if it's a Proculus-type situation, then?" Rodney said, though he threw a quick smirk at Sheppard, who stiffened. "An Ascended serving them?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at McKay, wiping the smirk from his face. "In the case of Proculus the Ancient was being punished—and it was in her best interest to remain unknown. That would not be the case here; the Immarians have made no attempts to hide their culture or their connection to the Ancients."

"Is it possible they have been deceived?" asked Teyla. "The girl mentioned bringing them to Atlantis would be difficult. Perhaps they are non-existent. As we have so recently learned, the Ancestors had many devices that could mimic their authority."

"Like the Gaming room?" said Ronon, a smile crossing his face. Elizabeth frowned, the 'gaming' incident still too recent to be considered without a little ire on her part. "That is something to think about."

"I'm sure it's not _that_," John replied, tossing her a nervous grin. "I mean, that was an experiment to begin with."

"Plus, that system was designed here. Their culture claims a distant connection to Atlantis, at best," said Rodney.

"Just because it was experimental here doesn't mean it couldn't have been employed with other cultures. We already know the Ancients had a number of different testing facilities spread throughout this galaxy."

"Didn't do much cleaning up, either," replied Ronon. "If the replicators are any indication."

John shifted a little, looking agitated. Something else was definitely bothering him.

She took in a breath, then sighed. "Right. Well, in any case, we need to find out what connection to the Ancients, if any, the Immarians truly have. Let's not keep them waiting, shall we?"

--/--

The Immarians were huddled together in the infirmary, talking quietly in the far corner of the room, away from their military guard. John sighed, trying to maintain his composure. Karon broke away as soon as they entered, striding towards Elizabeth with a determined gait.

"I must speak with you."

"So I've been told," she replied, crossing her arms. "We…"

"You promised we could remain here. Do you now go back on your word?"

"I did…"

"I suppose this is to be expected," Karon said with a scowl. "Given what you are."

John took a step forward. "Listen, you little…"

Elizabeth shot a hand out, eyes narrowed. "What I am, at this particular moment, is _tired _of listening to your criticisms. You were promised nothing_. _I extended an invitation to visit Atlantis as a show of good will between our peoples. To demonstrate that we were open to negotiation and alliance, despite the differences in our beliefs.

"You have treated that good will with nothing but contempt. And despite that, I am still open to working with your people in finding a common ground here. But I can only do so much. If you are not willing to find a way to work together, then we no longer have anything we can offer you."

The boy's nostril's flared. "You have no right to keep us away."

"And you have no right to be here in the first place," she replied, taking a step closer and crossing her arms. "Until you can prove that you do, you will be considered guests of Atlantis and nothing more. Now, if your Elders wish to contact us, and explain their relationship to the Ancients, then perhaps we…"

"WE DO NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO YOU!" he screamed suddenly, flinging a nearby infirmary tray into the air. It slammed into her, sending scalpels, syringes and tubes flying into the air.

John reached for his pistol—two steps behind Ronon, who had the Immarian pinned against one of the walls.

"RONON!" Elizabeth held a hand up, the other pressing against a cut which now ran down the side of her cheek. "It's all right. Let him go."

The scowl on the Satedan's face didn't fade, and he pressed the boy roughly against the wall. Karon's expression changed; fear crept into his eyes as he clutched Ronon's thick wrists, immoveable when they needed to be.

John swallowed. At this particular moment, he'd love nothing more than to see his friend continue what he'd started, but Elizabeth's expression was resolute. "Ronon."

Ronon didn't look back at them as he slowly released his grip; his eyes widened, challenging Karon to defy him, to give him a reason to continue. The boy, as so many others, didn't oblige him.

Sita stepped forward, apart from the other seemingly shocked members of her party, and placed a comforting arm around her leader. He edged away from her grasp, cradling his throat and withdrawing towards his people. Sita sighed, turning to them. "I apologize."

"Too late for that," John said. His voice came out gruff and shaky; Karon's behavior must have rattled him more than he realized. "You and your friends have ten minutes."

"Wait," she pleaded, glancing between him and Elizabeth, who was being tended by Carson. "Doctor Weir, may I speak with you?"

Elizabeth winced as Carson dabbed at her cheek. Her eyes flickered to where Karon was standing, still rubbing his throat.

John shook his head. "You guys had your chance."

"I shall be quick." She glanced over at him, her expression innocent. "I promise no harm shall come to her."

Teyla stared between them, then glanced at John, shaking her head slightly.

It was Elizabeth who stepped forward, waving off Carson. "All right, Sita."

John frowned. "Elizabeth…"

"Ten minutes, John," she replied. He stared at her for a moment, but she was unrelenting, her eyes taking on the steely look she wore whenever she was determined. She _was_ going to find a way to salvage something of this encounter—that was just the way she was. And damn stubborn about it, too.

"Ten minutes," he replied, ignoring Ronon's look of disapproval and Rodney's 'are-you-insane' expression.

She nodded, striding forward to where Sita stood, and took the girl by the arm, leaving out of the infirmary. John nodded to Lorne, who immediately fell into step a few feet behind them.

"Are you insane?" Rodney hissed, as the doors closed behind them. "Letting her alone with one of them?"

"You want to try and stop her?" John replied, watching the door worriedly.

"No. Still…"

"Look, I'm no happier about this than you are. But you know how stubborn she can get."

"They're not worth it, Sheppard," Ronon replied. He looked outwardly calm, but his eyes still bore a hint of fire. "They're not going to change."

"Yeah, well, be that as it may, there is still the problem of the Ancients that girl mentioned. Doctor Weir isn't wanting to take any chances. I'm sure you remember what happened the last time we misjudged a group of them."

"There is absolutely _no proof_ that they are Ancients like the crew of the _Tria_. These people could be lying for all we know!" Rodney said.

"I'm as eager to get them out of here as anyone, Rodney. But just in case," he held up a finger as Rodney opened his mouth, "just _in case_ there is something to this Ancient-Alteran business, let's let Elizabeth do what it is she…does…and try and leave on a good note."

"I am not certain that is possible," replied Teyla, nodding back towards the rest of the Immarians. Karon was being examined by Fasir; the rest of the group was regarding them with dark looks.

John glanced down at his watch. _Seven minutes. Then we can get them the hell out of here and gone for good._

--/--

"I feel I must apologize for Karon's behavior," Sita said, clasping her hands together. "He is of a rather excitable nature."

Elizabeth's hand grazed the cut on her cheek, bandaged with butterfly tape. "Is that what you call it?"

Sita bit her lip. "Yes."

"Look, Sita…I don't pretend to understand the customs of your culture. You have a very different society from ours. I want to find a way to compromise—somehow—but I'll admit that's becoming more difficult to do."

"It shall not get any easier, Doctor Weir."

"Why do you say that?"

"What would you say if I told you that all the men on Immaria are very similar to Karon?"

Elizabeth paused. "I would say that you're right. It won't be any easier. But it doesn't mean I would rule out the possibility of an alliance. I honestly believe we can work out a situation that will benefit everyone."

"I am glad you feel that way. But your position here…it makes things difficult. Our Council would see intervention by Colonel Sheppard, or Ronon, as emissaries on your behalf. It would not change who is responsible for the welfare of Atlantis. Part of the reason Karon is upset is because of that hierarchy. Despite Colonel Sheppard's command of the security forces, it is still quite obvious that he would not act generally without your consent."

Elizabeth signed, rubbing her forehead. "That is a position that is built out of respect, Sita, not requirement. I do not command Colonel Sheppard in the sense that you think. We work together for the benefit of the expedition and the city. I don't think," she leaned in, searching the girl's face, "that it's too different from your relationship to Karon."

"Karon is my commander. I must do as he asks."

"Yet you voice your opinion on military matters without his consent—to the extent that you can speak with me here."

"If Karon or the others knew we were discussing alliance, I would be chastised to the fullest extent of our disciplinary measures. Karon makes allowances for me because he knows my heart."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "And how does that work?"

"Karon knows that I believe fully in the ways of my people, and despite my acting out of turn, I never work in contravention of those beliefs."

"Then you support his ways of thinking? His…disdain for…"

"Karon is quick to anger. And this is Atlantis." The girl gazed around, smiling despite her serious tone. "I do not believe you fully understand what it means for us to be here."

"Perhaps not."

"Atlantis is…it is a promise, a fulfillment of promises."

"Now that, I don't understand. If your people have lived here for so long…if you have connection with the Ancients who built this city—why have your people never attempted to inhabit it? Surely the Alterans you communicate with know the address."

"Yes, they are aware of it—but Atlantis is not theirs to inhabit, not until the Testament is fulfilled. That is what we were searching for when we came here."

"Testament?"

"It is…difficult to explain. Essentially we had hoped to find fulfillment of it when we crossed into the city, but…it appears the promise has not been carried out according to what we know. I believe this is what angers Karon and the others most of all."

"Sita…"

"You do not have to explain anything, Doctor Weir. Your involvement here has nothing to do with our history, I know that. What happened on your expedition to Atlantis is unconnected with our people. But what we fully and honestly believed we would find when we came here—well, it is very, very different. I am perhaps explaining this poorly, but…please try to understand why they are angry."

"I'm afraid I can't," Elizabeth replied honestly. "If I don't understand your history, I can't understand the reasons for your beliefs. I won't lie to you—we will have a difficult time sanctioning any activities by the Immarians towards Atlantis if we cannot have a mutual understanding. That would mean tolerance on the part of your leaders as well as ours."

"I know this. I am not sure what this may mean for any future relations we may have. All I'm asking now is for you to accept my apologies on their behalf, and to accept their differences as best you can."

She paused, considering. "So long as they pose no threat to anyone on Atlantis, then I suppose I can do that. But Sita…do you really, truly believe that what they're doing is right?"

"Perhaps not in every decision, but as far as the beliefs of my people, yes." She held up a hand as Elizabeth moved to speak. "You are not the first, male or female, who has questioned our nature, Doctor Weir. We have encountered similar reactions before. But as your culture has a history that has shaped it, so does Immaria. A history that descended from our Alteran ancestors. Those beliefs have worked to protect us from the Wraith and other enemies for the entirety of our existence. Your being here does not open our eyes to the wonders of advanced technologies or of new, free-thinking ways. Your will cannot change us."

"I would not want to change your beliefs," Elizabeth responded. "I just want your people to do the same you seem to be asking of us. Accept the differences the best you can."

"I understand," Sita replied, eyes tightening. "I shall see what they will say, but I can make no promises."

Elizabeth gave her a small smile then turned, heading towards the steps that lead up to the gateroom. "Major Lorne will take you back to the infirmary. Tell you people the gate will be prepared for their departure."

"I truly am sorry, Doctor Weir. For everything."

"So am I, Sita," she said. The girl nodded, then turned back towards the infirmary, gracing Lorne with a cool, confident smile.

Elizabeth watched her go, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They'd encountered many failures on the expedition, but few felt as though they'd been brought about simply because of who they were. It was a failure she knew was impossible to correct, but it still felt like a defeat all the same.

--/--

Rodney watched the Immarians group together, feeling vaguely helpless. Elizabeth and Sheppard had to know that working with these people was fruitless—a complete waste of time. Yet here they were, still pandering to them.

"So we'll be showing them out, then?" Carson inquired, setting his spilled tray upright.

"That's the general idea," Sheppard replied.

"The sooner the better if you ask me. I believe in what Elizabeth is trying to do, but that fellow there is bad news."

"I agree," Teyla said. "Though I believe it is important to discover what connection they may have with the Ancestors, something about their people does not feel…correct. I confess I will feel much more comfortable when they are gone."

Sheppard smiled at her. "You and me both."

"Then why did you let Elizabeth have a heart-to-heart with Sheena?" Rodney sniped. "That's asking for trouble."

"As opposed to just spelling it out?" Sheppard snapped back, smile fading.

Rodney stared at him for a moment. Sheppard wasn't known for his mood swings, though he could get irritated often enough. "What? What did I say?"

"Well, let's start with you letting them know about the nanites, _Rodney_."

"They asked!"

"But not about Elizabeth!" John replied, moving up to stare him in the face. "You told them about her infection. As if they didn't already have enough of a problem with her!"

"You told them about that?" Carson asked, eyes widening. "Why would you do that?"

"I didn't…_mean_ to. I didn't know what I was saying! Look, they didn't even understand the concept of replicators and nanites anyway. It probably made no difference to them!"

"Let's hope not," Carson returned in a low tone.

"Perhaps it would be best to consider a slightly larger escort to the gateroom?" Teyla said.

"Already planning on it," John replied.

Rodney frowned, staring between them as they eyed the Immarians. "I'm sorry."

Sheppard turned, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I would never do anything to put Elizabeth or anyone else in danger. You know that."

Sheppard raised his hands to his hips, then sighed, features softening slightly. "Why don't you go and make sure everything's good for them to dial out, McKay?"

"There's not a lot to it, you know that, it's just dial the address and…" he made a zipping motion with his hand, feeling a little better.

Ronon cocked his head, tossing him a bored expression as Sheppard's eyes narrowed. Teyla smiled sympathetically.

It suddenly dawned on him that checking on the gate might not be a bad idea. "Right. So…I'll just…go and prepare the gate."

The Colonel smiled. "Good call."

--/--

The infirmary door slid open as Rodney exited, shuffling a bit to the side to allow Sita to enter. She nodded at him politely, then cast a small smile at Teyla before making her way to the back side of the room. Karon grabbed her arm almost forcefully, pulling her into the circle of Immarians. She shook out of his grasp with grace, laying a calm hand upon his shoulder as she turned her attention to them.

The girl had impressive control of her emotions. It was quite obvious why she had been selected to a leadership position. But her acceptance of her leader's almost brutal manner was unusual. Teyla hoped Elizabeth had discovered an explanation for their behavior.

"I don't like this," Ronon said quietly, echoing her thoughts as he so often did. "They're up to something."

"I agree," Teyla returned. John was leaning against the wall, watching the group as well; presumably he waited for the rest of the marine escort before showing the Immarians the way back to the gate. The expression on his face displayed the same wariness as Ronon's, if a bit less of an intense demeanor. "But there is little they can do."

"Doesn't make a difference. They can do enough."

She pursed her lips, considering. "You and I will accompany them to prevent any…trouble."

He glanced down at her with a bored expression; of course he had already considered that course of action. She smiled at him.

"Team's ready," John responded, pulling up from the wall. "Can you show our visitors the door?"

"Of course," she replied. "Where are you going?"

"Find Elizabeth," he said. "I'm pretty sure she's not going to want to miss this." He exited as the marine escort made their way in.

Lorne nodded towards him, then smiled at Teyla. "We're ready to go."

"So are they," Ronon replied, raising his voice. "Time to leave."

Karon looked up, eyes narrowed slightly. The rest of the group wore similar expressions, though Sita remained stoic. "And we are more than ready."

--/--

Elizabeth was exactly where John expected her to be—gazing over the calm waters of Lantea, one hand resting on the steel crossbar of the Tower balcony. When she didn't return to the infirmary, he figured she'd be out here, letting the sound of the water soother her back into calm.

She loved it up here—it had been a favorite spot since they first came to Atlantis; a haven at times when nothing seemed to be going right or she had something on her mind. He understood that feeling; for him, it was a reminder of what made Atlantis worth fighting for, even in the face of the Wraith and other incalculable dangers. Including annoying guests.

She'd only had a few minutes, but it seemed to be enough. Her stance was relaxed; her expression calm. She turned as the doors closed behind him, the wind whipping up the curls of the brown hair which just grazed her shoulders. "Hi."

He tried to ignore the bandage on her cheek, flashing a grin instead. "We were just about to wish our visitors a fond farewell. Care to join us?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Sure. You can choose to wave them off from afar or kick them headfirst through the gate. It's up to you."

Elizabeth smiled. "I suppose I shouldn't be complaining. A handful of disgruntled Pegasus natives aren't really comparable to some of the other situations we've had to deal with."

He leaned over the balcony, grasping the railing with both hands. "I don't know…Wraith attacks, insolent tribal people—they sorta balance out in the long run."

She made a face at him. "Maybe." Her arms folded underneath her and she bent down. "What gets me is that there just doesn't seem to be _anything _that can convince them we're not doing anything wrong."

"Well...I don't necessarily think what we're doing is the issue. I think they have a problem with the 'us' in general." John turned slightly. "This isn't a problem of getting them to see we're not a threat. They have an issue with the culture, not the people."

"I just…don't understand that. How can you _presume _that someone else is completely mistaken without even considering their side?"

"That's the negotiator in you." He nudged her with his elbow, and she smiled slightly. "But in this case, I think we're dealing more with belief than fact."

"Belief? I'm not convinced this is a matter of faith. They treat the Ancients like genetic ancestors, not gods."

"Not faith, belief. They have an honest-to-god belief that we're the trespassers here, and that's not going to change just because we redecorated. It's like those cult people who absolutely believe the world is going to end so they hole themselves up waiting for it to happen. We're not going to be able to change their minds no matter how many olive branches we hold out. For them, Atlantis is sacred, and we're the intruders."

Elizabeth glanced back behind her at the Tower's great steel berth, considering. "Sita didn't give any indication that their 'Alterans' were living Ancients, but what if…" When she turned to him, her eyes were tight. "John, what if…"

"What if they are?"

"The last time…"

The pain in her voice was evident; John swallowed, feeling a touch uncomfortable. The memory of being back on Earth, of being away from Atlantis, away from her and the rest, still didn't sit well with him. He knew it had been especially hard on Elizabeth. "I know."

"I guess we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Maybe we'll be lucky." He flashed her a reassuring smile. "Maybe they'll turn out to be replicators."

"Or a gaming console?"

She grinned at the face he made. "I guess I deserved that. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Right. Well, then, Colonel, lead the way."

--/--

Teyla smiled politely at the young warrior women as they walked into the open air of the gateroom. Neither of them looked happy with the outcome of the visit, but she supposed there was little they could do or say, considering the balance of power within their society.

Ronon moved up alongside her. He was tense; his fingers edging toward the gun he generally wore on his belt loop, watching the leader, Karon, with narrowed eyes. The boy appeared cowed; he looked at no one and made his way to the Stargate with no sign of defiance. "Perhaps we have been overly cautious."

"You believe that?" he asked quietly.

"I would like to," she sighed. "I will be very glad to see them go."

"Yeah, me too." He leaned in towards her. "Just keep your guard up. In case."

--/--

Rodney didn't bother with glancing down at the group below him. Judging by the sound they'd made, Sheppard had ordered the whole enchilada as far as the escort team. The balcony door opened; Elizabeth and Sheppard walked back into the Tower, she giving the Colonel as small smile as she made her way down, heading towards the group. Sheppard watched her go, then walked into the control area.

"She still wants to make friends?" Rodney scoffed. "Isn't that sort of pointless by now?"

"Let it go, Rodney."

"Gladly. Though I will say that if those rustics have an Ancient trump card to play they're going to play it, no matter how many bones Elizabeth throws them."

Sheppard shrugged. "Can't hurt."

"Yes, it can," Rodney gestured to his arm. "I got hit with one of those scalpels earlier."

The Immarians had gotten within range of the gate; Teyla and Ronon were standing alongside them. Rodney tapped his earpiece. "Major Lorne, do we have a gate address?"

The young major answered his reply; Rodney listened in puzzlement. "The same address as before? But that wasn't their home world."

"_It's where they want to go, Doctor."_

Sheppard listen to the exchange with a raised eyebrow, then moved to the balcony, his body tense, watching the scene below them with a wary eye.

--/--

Ronon felt irritated; something about the Immarians' behavior rubbed him the wrong way, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Teyla stood beside him, tense and alert, though her calm demeanor and casual smiles made it obviously only to the trained eye.

Doctor Weir reached the group, tensing as she passed the leader, who ignored her presence. She reached the two girls Teyla had befriended earlier, greeting them with a smile. The other boys nodded at her politely, though their expressions were less than kind.

He fingered the stunner on his belt, careful not to excite too much attention. Weir glanced over at him, nodding once, acknowledging his caution. He nodded in response, and took a step back as the lights on the gate darted around the circle, beginning the dialing sequence.

--/--

John turned back towards the DHD as the final chevron locked, the wormhole flaring to life. Chuck, the technician, studied the panel for a moment, the lights from the console casting small shadows across his face.

Rodney was shaking his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Ah," he glanced up, still puzzled. "I don't know…why don't they want to gate to their home world?"

"They don't trust us? They haven't exactly been given the royal welcome."

"Yeah, but…"

John glanced back down at the floor, as the Immarians made their way up onto the dais. The marines had stepped back; Ronon and Teyla flanked Elizabeth. "I don't like it either. Be prepared to shut it down on my mark."

Rodney nodded, watching the exodus with a concerned face. John turned, jogging towards the stairs.

--/--

"Thank you very much for your kind hospitality, Doctor Weir."

Elizabeth smiled at Sita. "I'm just sorry we couldn't come to terms with your people."

"You do not have to apologize. Karon is just…very much a believer in our ways," Sita returned, watching the young man worriedly as he paced in front of the wormhole. "I know they are different. You have been very tolerant where many others have not been."

"Well, I've had some practice."

"You have been very kind to us." The young woman glanced over her shoulder, her body language suddenly become very stiff. Elizabeth frowned; there was something puzzling in the girl's manner. As though she was dreading something.

"Is something the matter? Sita, are you in danger?"

"No…I just…I am very sorry, Doctor Weir."

"For what?"

Sita's eyes tightened. "I'm sorry."

The Immarian's movements were almost too quick for Elizabeth to catch. The small stick attached to the girl's belt was suddenly in her hand; there was a flash of motion. She heard a sharp crack, and her body shuddered in response, pain flooding her senses, before everything went dark.


	6. Stolen

_Sorry this has taken so long. I promise I'm doing my best to work on completing this fic, so thanks for coming back to read!_

_--/--  
_

"_STOP_!"

Rodney turned from the dialer as Sheppard's voice echoed through the control room; many of the techs hurried to the balcony overlooking the gate.

Sheppard was scrambling down the stairs towards the Stargate, where a cloud of smoke had risen up, engulfing the Immarians in a shadowy fog. Ronon and Teyla had disappeared, as had Elizabeth.

"What the hell happened?" he snapped back at the gate technician. The young man shook his head, motioning to the intact control panel.

"_Muj_ _Boze_." Zelenka pushed past him, to the balcony, and Rodney turned, puzzlement quickly replaced by all-out panic. "Doctor _Weir!_"

The smoke had begun to clear on the far side of the gate—apparently caused by some strange pellets thrown by Fasir and Eylos—revealing Elizabeth, sprawled across the ground, blood running down the side of her face.

The young woman named Sita was standing above her, a bloody stick in her hand. The red-headed girl darted out of the smoke, a handful of marines collapsed in her wake. Ronon was also on the ground, entangled with Teyla. Eylos and Fasir darted through the wormhole as Karon bent down and grabbed Elizabeth, dragging her through. The two young women shadowed him protectively, walking backwards into the event horizon as the few marines left standing stumbled forward, P-90's raised, still choking on the pellet gas.

Sheppard raced towards them, clearing the dais steps and a few marines in one leap. As he reached the gate, the wormhole collapsed, cutting him off before he could make it through.

"DIAL IT BACK!"

Sheppard's angry cry snapped Rodney into action and he rushed to the dialing console, punching in the characters he'd seen the tech dial in.

It was no use. The gate failed to connect.

"MCKAY!"

"I'M TRYING!" Rodney shouted in response, trying the sequence again. The gate again failed to connect, meaning one of two things—either the connecting gate had been destroyed, or more likely, the gate had dialed immediately out to another address.

"DAMMIT—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?!"

"IT'S NO GOOD, I ALREADY TOLD YOU! THEY MUST HAVE HAD A PLAN IN PLACE!"

"What?"

Rodney rushed out to the balcony, past Zelenka and the shell-shocked techs who were watching the exchange in horror. "The gate won't connect to that address. They must have immediately dialed out when the gate shut. Which means they were prepared for something like this!"

Realization hit Sheppard almost immediately, and a wild-eyed expression crossed his face. The rest of the control room was in almost instant panic, the techs checking their machines, trying for anything that might lead them to where the group had disappeared.

"What do we do?" Rodney asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking as John paced below him. _Elizabeth…_

"Keep trying the address until you get it."

"That could take up to thirty-eight minutes, the length of…"

"JUST DO IT, RODNEY!" Sheppard snarled, his voice echoing through the gateroom. Chuck and a few of the other control room techs flinched, worried expressions on their faces. "I don't care how long it takes! You contact me the moment you get it open." He marched away, his body tense, wearing a lethal expression.

"Where are you going? Sheppard!"

The Colonel deliberately paced across the dais, stopping a few feet in front of the marines who'd been assaulted by the red-haired woman.

Evan Lorne looked up from amidst the group, P-90 still in hand, a forlorn expression written across his handsome features.

At that particular moment—and for one of the few times in his life—Rodney McKay did not envy him.

--/--

Teyla sat back quietly, trying to maintain a sense of calm amidst the chaos of the conference room. The news of Doctor Weir's capture had spread throughout the city, and the effect had been instantaneous—the halls were subdued, the normally genial science and expedition members in a state of disbelief and fear as they awaited word on their missing leader.

She could not help but feel partly responsible for the attack. Ronon had certainly felt they were a threat; yet she had not taken his warnings as seriously as she might have. Had she paid more attention, Dravan may not have surprised them. The young woman had demonstrated exactly why she was a leader of the warriors of her people; her skills were easily matched to Teyla's—perhaps even Ronon's. By the time they had recovered, the Immarians had gone, taking Elizabeth Weir with them.

Many hardships had befallen the Atlantis expedition since the group had crossed through the gate from their home world of Earth, but never had they been attacked in this manner. The closest instance had come during a powerful storm, when the Genii had betrayed their trust and attempted to overtake the city. But then, the leaders of Atlantis had been alone, and the Genii had ultimately failed, despite their larger numbers.

This time, the intruders had taken advantage of the hospitality of the people of Atlantis and stolen something right before their eyes.

"Are you _sure_?"

Teyla's attention turned towards the center of the conference room, where Evan Lorne was seated, looking down at the floor as John Sheppard thundered above him. The Lieutenant Colonel had wasted no time assembling Lorne's exploration team and interrogating them in a manner not very dissimilar with those he used for an enemy.

Lorne looked up, shoulders slumped. "Yes sir. We interrogated them as we do everyone who wants to form an alliance with us. They submitted to all the scans without a problem. As far as I thought, sir, they posed no threat."

"Well obviously you thought _wrong._"

"Colonel…" Teyla stiffened as John turned his fierce gaze on her. She'd only seen that look once before, during the failed Genii mission, when Acastus Kolya had taken the city and threatened Doctor Weir and Doctor McKay with death. Teyla, until that point, had viewed Atlantis's military commander as easygoing and slightly youthful in his mannerisms, but that day had shown what type of soldier lurked beneath his outwardly casual exterior. She had not misjudged him since.

She took in a breath, returning his look with an expression of forced calm. "I do not believe there is much more Major Lorne or his team can tell us about these people. They were not the only ones fooled by the Immarians. We all believed them unpleasant, but I do not think anyone perceived they were a true danger."

John glanced back at Lorne, whose gaze had returned to the floor in front of him, and straightened. "Okay," he said softly, guilt replacing the hard glint of anger, "none of us are very good judges of character these days."

"What do we do now?" asked Ronon from the corner. He'd not said much in the chaos that had followed Doctor Weir's capture, but Teyla could sense his frustration at having underestimated the warriors' abilities.

"Rodney's working on dialing M1M-136," John replied. "When he connects, we can retrieve the dialing crystal from their gate and find out where they dialed next."

"They're not going to make a two-gate jump. They were prepared for this assault; they're going to know we'll be tracking them. If we're going to find them, it's going to have to be in another way."

John nodded. "Well, then, what are our options?"

"Perhaps the Genii will be willing to help?" Teyla said tentatively. "Ladon has often expressed a desire to assist us should we need it. And he did extend an offer to Ronon and myself to become Genii allies during the recent Ancient inhabitation of Atlantis."

Ronon turned his emotionless gaze to her. "And let them know Weir's been taken?"

"Ladon is not the same as Cowen. He has assisted us in a situation like this in the—"

"I agree with Ronon," John interrupted, scuffing a hand through his disheveled hair. "The less the Genii—or anyone in Pegasus, for that matter—know about this, the better. If we need their help later, perhaps, but right now, this stays in-house."

"There is one other matter to attend to," said Doctor Beckett quietly. John gazed up, drawing his lips into a thin line, as though he knew what the doctor was going to say. "We have to notify Earth."

Teyla glanced over at him, startled. "Is that necessary at this moment?"

Carson nodded. "Aye. I hate to do it as much as you, but there is procedure to be followed here. This isn't Elizabeth falling ill this time. The expedition has been compromised. Our world has protocols to follow in cases such as this, and we can't just ignore them."

"He's right," John said, before Teyla could reply. "We have no choice."

She frowned, glancing over at Ronon. He looked stoic, but this news was no more pleasing to him, she suspected, than it was to her.

John sighed, hands rising to his hips, the look on his face perpetually weary. "I'll go find Rodney. We need to get a team out there to retrieve those crystals. Then, we need to dial the SGC."

"Sir?" Lorne asked tentatively, standing. "If it's not too much to ask…"

"Get a team together," John responded, not letting him finish. "You'll be leaving as soon as McKay is ready."

The young major nodded, looking relieved, and exited the conference room. John watched him go, then turned to them. "I'm going to check on Rodney."

Teyla nodded, offering a reassuring smile. He returned it with the ghost of a grin, one which quickly faded as he caught site of the Stargate, standing vast and empty below them.

Ronon moved alongside her as John exited. Carson followed him, his own expression sad and dejected.

"We have dealt with situations where a member of our team has been captured before. But this feels so much more—I do not know—_terrifying_. Ronon, what if… "

"I know," he said softly, raising one hand to her shoulder. "Don't think about it like that. Weir's strong. As strong as anyone in Sheppard's military. You just have to remember that."

"It would seem I am not the only one who does."

"Then let's go remind them," he returned. Behind her, the lights of the Atlantis conference room dimmed and went dark.

--/--

John hesitated at the landing, glancing down at the team of workers huddled around the gate base. They were making a careful documentation of the scene; snapping photographs and gathering anything that might give more of a hint as to what to do next. He avoided looking directly at them, or the long trail of blood terminating at the gate.

Rodney was still seated at the dialer. John made his way up the control room steps, ignoring the gazes of the technicians gathered worriedly around the equipment. McKay said nothing as he drew near, just slapped one of the controls on the panel until a warning klaxon, typically used for the auto-destruct sequence, blasted through the room.

The crew near the gate stepped away from the dais and McKay punched the sequence of numbers, his fist curling in frustration as the gate failed to connect.

"Still nothing, huh?" John asked softly.

Rodney nearly jumped out of his chair. "Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?"

"I'm not," he replied. "I just walked up."

"Well…next time do it more noisily. Or something."

"How much longer do we have?"

The scientist turned back to the dialer, not missing a beat. "It's been nearly thirty-five minutes since…since they left. The gate should be clear in approximately three minutes or so."

"Can they do this again?"

"Ostensibly yes, but why would they?"

"Oh, I don't know—to prevent us from following them?"

"What difference would it make? Even if they've got someone staying behind to keep the gate open, they'd still only be one gate jump away. Sticking around wouldn't change anything, so why would they? That wouldn't make any sense."

"I know. But nothing about these people makes sense, Rodney."

Rodney hesitated, contemplating. "True," he replied after a moment. "But even so, if they try this again they're still stranded. Their agenda is complete. There's no reason to hang around and run the risk we dial in before they dial out."

John nodded, watching for a moment as the scientist turned back to the dialer. "Lorne's getting a team together," he said finally, starting towards the stairs. "He should be ready to go when you connect."

"You're not coming?"

"I have some…things to do." He tried not to let the frustration show through, but McKay studied him for a moment, a look of resignation replacing the surprise. "You're dialing Earth."

When John didn't answer, Rodney sighed. "That's not a good idea."

"Believe me, it's the last thing I want to do."

"Well, then, why don't we wait? For all we know, Elizabeth could be on the next planet. Or we could catch up with them before they jump any further. It's just a matter of tracing the address on the dialing crystal and…"

"You really think that's going to be that easy? You said it yourself—they're not stupid. They're not going to make a one-gate jump. By the time we actually connect, get our hands on the dialing crystal and trace they address, they're going to be who knows how many worlds ahead of us." He raised his hands to his hips. "Beckett's right, the SGC needs to know the situation."

"Carson? I'm sorry, but when did the _medical_ _doctor_ start calling the shots? If this situation was reversed and it was you who'd been kidnapped, do you really think Elizabeth would have called in a replacement so quickly? She wouldn't give up on you…"

John's head snapped up. "I'm not giving up on her! Don't you think I'd like nothing better than to be out there right now tracking down those bastards? And if it had been you, or Teyla, they clopped over the head we'd be out there as soon as that gate connected, because that's what Elizabeth would have ordered us to do.

"But it's not you who's out there, Rodney. It's _her_. Without _her_, there's no one to oversee a rescue mission AND protect the city."

"The city will be fine! Let Radek keep an eye on it or…one of the gate techs, or something. Let Carson handle it. The Wraith aren't going to come swarming in within the next two hours. Nothing is going to happen to Atlantis."

"You don't know that, McKay." John was struggling to keep his voice controlled; even now a few of the techs were watching the exchange with wide-eyed expressions. "The Immarians know our gate address. We don't know how connected they may be to other races in the galaxy. And I am not going to fail Elizabeth by rushing off half-assed without considering the consequences."

"What do you mean 'fail Elizabeth'? That's what you're doing now, by letting SGC get involved! By not…"

"What do you think Elizabeth would want, Rodney? Do you really think she'd want us to leave the city unprotected? To go gallivanting off on some long-shot attempt at a rescue while Atlantis remains unguarded? Tell me that's what you think, because if it is then apparently we've been living with two different sides of the same woman for three years."

Rodney turned back to the dialer, shoulders slumping. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, that's not what she would want." He slapped the warning signal halfheartedly before dialing the address again. The gate failed once more. "She would want us to do exactly what you're doing."

"Yeah." John shifted uncomfortably. "But it doesn't mean we have to like it."

"No."

"I can…put it off, maybe for an hour, if you really think…"

"There's not going to be anything on that planet. You were right, by the time we get the crystal out they'll have jumped ten more times. She isn't…SGC needs to know this is going to take some time."

He sounded the klaxon again, punching up the address. The group on the dais watched at the lights raced around the ring, waiting patiently to resume their work.

The gate locked; the group scuttled back as the wormhole whooshed to life in front of them. Rodney studied the glowing pool for a moment, then glanced back at John. "This is my fault."

John looked over at his friend. "No, it isn't. You can't blame yourself. There was no way you could have anticipated what they were going to do. None of us could."

"I should have pushed more about getting them out of here last night. Made her listen."

"McKay…"

"No. I knew better; I'm the one who opened my big mouth about the nanites and I'm the one who knew they were acting weird. I'm to blame and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Alright. Fine. I'll just explain to Landry and the IOA that this was completely your fault and that you take full and complete responsibility. We'll let them schedule a hearing for you later this week."

McKay blanched. "What? That's a…"

"Completely ridiculous? Exactly, Rodney. Now get down there and get us a dialing crystal so we can get our leader back."

McKay studied him for a moment, then nodded, setting off at a determined gait. John watched him as he walked towards the stairs, towards the landing which overlooked the tower balcony.

Elizabeth's favorite balcony.

Rodney turned at the top of the steps. "That goes for you, too, you know."

"What?"

"You can't blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done."

He didn't respond.

"Hey. Wallowing in it isn't going to get Elizabeth back."

John bit his lip, trying to give a resigned nod. Rodney seemed less than satisfied, but started down the steps anyway, meeting Teyla and Ronon as they reached the dais, along with Lorne's group of marines. They gave him a salutatory nod as they started through the gate, Teyla offering a reassuring smile before she disappeared.

He kept his gaze deliberately turned from the wide, empty office to his left, and headed down the stairs to the infirmary. Someone was going to have to run intermediary between he and the SGC, and he needed the walk.


	7. Obey

_Ah, filler, filler. But I don't know, what's considered not filler in a story like this? I rather like these segments._

_Sorry this story has been so slow going—but thank you for staying with it. In the last few weeks, the ideas have been flowing more smoothly and it's starting to take shape better, though it's definitely going to be 'big' and more like an episode than a short story._

_For those of you who review—thank you. I am not one of those who remembers to thank people personally—I forget that function is there—but I am always grateful for the reviews._

--/--

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, an incredible weight settling on her body, making it difficult to move. She struggled to raise her hand, her eyes blinking open slowly, the dim light sending waves of pain through the side and back of her head.

_What happened?_

Something dry and thick caked the side of her face; she ran a hand tentatively along her cheek. A reddish dust coated her fingers.

Blood.

She immediately pulled herself up, fighting the nausea that rose in her stomach as waves of pain coursed through her head. She'd been struck.

Struck by Sita.

The surroundings were unfamiliar—not a dark cell, but a dimly lit tent or canvas of some kind, where a fire was smoking in the corner. She was not bound, but sluggishness had settled on her limbs, either due to the blow she'd taken to the head or something they'd given her. It would take a moment for her to gather her senses.

One flap of the tent pulled aside and she pulled herself back towards the corner, raising the blankets they'd wrapped her in.

Sita's face peered through the doorway, looking alarmed. "You're awake."

Elizabeth stiffened, anger flooding through her. The young girl still looked concerned about her welfare, but she'd betrayed the trust of all of them by doing this. "Where am I?"

"You are in Immaria."

"Why did you kidnap me?"

Sita entered, lowering the flap carefully behind her and moving to stoke the fire. "The idea was not mine. I was ordered to strike you by Karon."

"And you agreed?"

"I told you before—I do not always sanction Karon's actions, but I very firmly believe in the will of my people. That means obeying his orders."

"Even if it means harming another."

Sita raised her eyes to Elizabeth, wearing a passive expression. "Karon is my leader. I do what he asks. Whatever the consequences may be."

Elizabeth raised a hand to her forehead, trying to quell the throbbing. Not all of it stemmed from the blow Sita had given her. "So, then, why? Why did he do this? We did nothing to precipitate this. Why have you taken me from my people?"

"Karon and the Elders feel you have violated the will of the Alterans," the girl returned simply. "You have not earned the right to inhabit Atlantis."

"That was not his decision to make," she snapped, trying to stand. The world swam around her and she reached blindly for the canvas wall, fighting a rising nausea. "He had no right to take me prisoner."

Sita's hands were on her arms, holding her steady. "I am afraid that Karon is serving only the will of the Alterans, and our Elders. When we discovered the existence of Atlantis, it was they who requested we check to make certain the city was being properly preserved."

"If your people had wished to 'preserve' Atlantis then they should have claimed the rights a long time ago. The city was abandoned when we discovered it—buried thousands of feet beneath the ocean. Had you or your 'Alterans' had the right to it, it was there to be taken. Since you didn't, I can only assume your Ancients had no desire to reclaim the city—and until they can prove their existence and exert those claims, we have every right to be there."

Sita frowned. "Atlantis is a sacred place. Neither we nor our Alteran guides had any desire to inhabit it. You are not being charged with claiming right to it, Doctor Weir—the accusation against you is of daring to inhabit it at all." She released Elizabeth, moving towards the tent flap.

"My people do not negotiate with people like yours," Elizabeth said carefully to the young woman's back. "They will not give up anything in exchange for my life."

When Sita turned, she wore a look of worry. "We seek no negotiation. You are being tried for your crimes against the Alterans. If you are found guilty, you will be sentenced to death—and there will be nothing your people can do in exchange."

Elizabeth swallowed. "I am to die for violating the laws of a culture of which I'm not part—laws I've never even heard of?"

"I am sorry. It is our way."

"Then I am sorry, too," she replied. "My people won't negotiate, but if you go through with this—if they find out what you're doing—it will be declared an act of war. You and your people will be in great danger."

"I do not believe your people are capable of such a thing."

Elizabeth stared at her, her tone deadly serious. "Sita, you have no idea what my people are capable of."

--/--

"OUCH!" Rodney yanked his hand from the console, clamping a hand down on a bloody finger. His fingertip throbbed and he took a breath, trying to keep calm.

An image of Elizabeth, blood matting the side of her head, flashed through his mind and he sighed, releasing his hand. The dialing console on M1M-316 had been difficult to get into, and the extreme cold and snowy ground weren't helping.

But at least it meant those idiot rustics who'd taken Elizabeth hadn't been able to erase anything on the dialing crystal.

"Rodney," Zelenka said, coming up behind him. "Have you…Rodney!"

"WHAT?" he replied, fiddling with the slots with his good hand.

"You need…Doctor Beckett should look at that."

Rodney glanced over at his still throbbing hand. The fingertip of his middle finger was swollen and slowly turning dark purple.

No wonder it hurt.

"I'm fine," he snapped. _Elizabeth was clobbered with a six-inch thick wooden club._

"It could be broken."

"Have you found anything useful? Because if you have, you will probably want to report it to Colonel Sheppard. If you haven't, then I suggest you look harder or otherwise stop bothering me!"

Zelenka sighed, then said quietly, "we have everything else we need. We're just waiting on the dialing crystal."

"Great. In that case, I guess I better hand it over…" he yanked, wincing at the sharp throbbing in his hand. "…now."

The crystal dislodged with a pop; he handed it over slowly, trying not to stain the delicately carved slab.

Radek took it from him, turning and heading towards the awaiting Jumper. Rodney pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to clear his mind of the image of Elizabeth, lying on the floor, blood pooling around her head.

"You really should have someone look at that."

Rodney glanced over at Radek, who'd paused about ten feet from him. The man looked tired. There were circles under his eyes.

"Just find out the last ten coordinates, alright?" He didn't bother making it snappish. Nothing would help, at this point.

Zelenka nodded once, and without further argument, headed off to the Puddle Jumper.

--/--

Even with a pair of thick, fur-lined boots, the ground on Neron _was_ cold. Ronon stamped his feet a few times, regenerating blood flow through his legs.

Cold had never really bothered him until it sunk into his bones. That's when it limited his abilities—and when it became a problem. Right now, he had so much energy flowing through him he doubted anything would seriously affect him.

He watched the Atlantis team members bustle about their parked Puddle Jumper, the cold not seeming to bother them, either. He supposed their agitation about the kidnapping of Weir accounted for the lack of complaining.

Lorne was returning from the village they'd been to earlier; he could hear the rhythmic thumping of boots in snow behind the rise. Teyla had gone with them to serve as an additional pair of Pegasus eyes. Some of the nuances of the galaxy's cultures were sometimes lost on the Earth members of the expedition.

Rodney McKay sat up from beneath the dialing console near the gate, cradling his left hand. From what Ronon could tell, he'd suffered a broken finger.

The scientist's tight-lipped expression surprised him. Normally McKay would be whining by now, probably something about how he deserved a medal and a few days rest for an injury 'on the job'.

If he had stopped complaining, Weir's disappearance was serious.

Ronon had only heard tales of the threats Atlantis had faced by the Genii and the Wraith in the first year of the expedition. By the time he'd been offered sanctuary in the city, they had convinced most of the Pegasus galaxy that Atlantis had been destroyed. Other than the Replicators who seized control of it not long ago—after the Atlantis group had left for Earth—there had not been another serious threat to the city during his time there.

Weir's safety was another matter. Though the expedition kept their leader at a distance most of the time, it didn't stop her getting into her share of trouble. It had surprised him to see her dressed in a TAC vest, heading off-world every so often or on a mission to deal with enemies much more experienced than she was. Once or twice she'd carried a gun, though he wondered at her experience. He didn't doubt her courage—that was equal to Sheppard's, maybe more—but her skill was definitely second-rate.

Which is why he blamed himself for letting the Immarians get as close to her as they did. He should have been able to sense their intentions. Someone like Karon—Ron's gut instinct had told him immediately the kind of danger the Immarian posed. But he had given Weir's conscience the benefit of the doubt and relaxed his guard.

Atlantis was making him soft.

"Ronon?" Teyla trudged quietly over to him. Most of the science expedition had taken shelter in the Jumper, including McKay, who was sitting quietly along the far side bench, still cradling his injured hand.

"Nothing?" he replied in return. The Athosian shook her head. One of the things he appreciated most about Teyla was how well she seemed to understand him. There was no need to explain or elaborate with her.

"The villagers were quite surprised the Immarians attempted something so bold. They did not appear to be of a violent nature. I believe the Neronians were not involved with this situation."

"Didn't think they were."

"What do you believe the Immarians' intentions are?"

"I think they're angry. And insulted. I think their 'intentions' weren't more than that."

"And with regards to Doctor Weir?"

"She represented everything they were angry about."

"I am…concerned." A look of worry passed across Teyla's face. "For Elizabeth, of course—but there is more as well. Colonel Sheppard is at this moment contacting Earth to let them know of Dr. Weir's disappearance. The people of Earth react quickly to such matters. I believe we will see a change in the command of Atlantis very soon, at least until Doctor Weir is found."

"You think Sheppard would let that happen?"

"I do not believe he would have a choice."

Ronon frowned, and shifted his position. "Meaning what?"

"I have seen such 'changes' before and they have not necessarily been…beneficial…to the peoples of this galaxy." She smiled quickly, her way of covering her insecurities. "I do not mean to say they will be unkind…"

"They're just not Weir."

"Precisely."

He flashed her a small smile. "Same thing happened when the Ancestors returned. We dealt with that."

"Then, Atlantis was being returned to rightful ownership. Here…they will send in someone to try and control the situation. When they have done that in the past, it has not been always been pleasant."

"Sheppard's not gonna let anyone to come in and change things while Weir is still out there."

She nodded, not looking appeased. "Let us hope not."

Doctor Zelenka motioned to them from the jumper, indicating the science expedition was ready to leave. He sniffed, blowing out a cold breath, and started forward. Teyla followed him quietly.

Some of her concerns hung on the fringes of his mind. While they did not weigh as heavily on him as they did her—he had only himself to worry about—it didn't mean he wasn't concerned about where the interference of Earth might lead.

He could always leave—there would be nothing stopping him—but Weir had offered him a place here, and right now, he liked it. He liked her. And he wanted to find a way to keep that security while he could.

How this played out lay on Sheppard's shoulders. He'd trusted him initially; he'd just have to do so again.

--/--

John clenched his jaw, trying to stay calm. Richard Woolsey peered back at him through the video screen, a pompous look on his face. "So let me get this straight—Doctor Weir approached these people after they'd rejected her previous attempts at negotiation—without an armed escort?"

Carson glanced at him. "Not…exactly."

"There was a full military contingent deployed, and Ronon and Teyla were with her."

"Oh, well, if Ronon and Teyla were with her," Woolsey snapped, looking vaguely disgruntled. "And did Ronon and Teyla manage to prevent her kidnapping?"

Carson turned to him. John felt the need to breathe and step back, or something or someone was going to get smacked.

"No one saw this coming, Mr. Woolsey." Doctor Beckett said quietly, after realizing John was not going to respond. "They were arrogant, to be sure, but they never demonstrated violent tendencies. We had no idea they would attempt something of this magnitude."

"That's not true," John choked out. He looked over at the doctor, then at the peaked face on the screen. "I had a bad feeling about that kid from the start. We all did. We just didn't think…"

"They were not that sophisticated," Carson interrupted. "None of us—including Doctor Weir—believed they posed any kind of a threat."

"That may have been the case," said General Tom Landry, moving in alongside Woolsey. "As it turns out, your beliefs were wrong. Now, Doctor Weir will have to suffer the consequences."

"We're going to find her," John said through clenched teeth, trying to bury in his mind the image of Elizabeth sprawled across the gateroom floor. "And when we do…"

Landry gave a half-smile. "I'm sure you will, Colonel. But as of right now we're just concerned with getting her back."

"So are we." Carson sputtered. "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay and everyone are doing everything they can to…"

"Yes, Doctor I know they are. Which is what we're primarily concerned about. Right now you're under a lot of stress—your friend and leader has just been kidnapped, Atlantis is in disarray, you…"  
"General, it's true that we've never had to deal with Doctor Weir being kidnapped before but that doesn't mean we're incapable of handling it."

"That's exactly what it means, Doctor Beckett," Woolsey returned with a stoic expression. "I'm sorry, but neither you nor Colonel Sheppard has demonstrated you have any kind of a 'handle' on the current situation."

"Wha—"

Landry held up a hand. "Right now, Atlantis has no direction. You're floundering and you don't have anything to hold onto."

"And I expect," John said quietly, after a moment's silence, "you've decided to toss us a life preserver."

"More like a lifeguard," the General returned; that small, tight smile back in place.

"Lifeguard? What, you're sending in a replacement?" Beckett squeaked. "Already? It's not been but a few hours!"

"A temporary replacement, Doctor. Atlantis just suffered an attack. Right now, the IOA feels like the situation warrants temporary—" he cast a glance at Woolsey, who looked peeved, "_temporary_ military control."

"And what about Colonel Sheppard?"

"Colonel Sheppard is too closely connected to the situation to be able to handle all of Atlantis's _other_ needs," Landry replied. "I have no doubt of the Colonel's capabilities as both a military head and a leader—but I thought he might be a little more interested in the reconnaissance aspect of things."

"Thank you," John said, cutting Carson's next protest short. "When can we expect this 'temporary' stand-in?"

"Within a day," Landry responded. When John and Beckett exchanged confused glances, the General smiled. "He was in the area."

"Caldwell." John muttered. Beckett let loose a frustrated sigh that was probably louder than intended.

Landry gave him a polite smile. "Colonel Caldwell is familiar with the workings of Atlantis and Doctor Weir's way of doing things. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, he even had some brief experience as the military commander."

"Yes, he did." John replied edgily. "Not a situation I particularly care to remember, sir."

"I'm sure you don't, Colonel. But we're not concerned with the past—only the present. When Colonel Caldwell arrives, Atlantis goes under full military control. You will report to him for all further instructions."

"But…"

"And no arguments, Doctor; I expect full cooperation for everyone—including Doctor McKay. Atlantis needs this right now—and you need to focus on finding Doctor Weir. Don't threaten her safety by taking on more than you're mentally—or _emotionally_—able to handle."

"Yes, Sir." John stepped back as Carson frowned.

"General, how long is this 'military' occupation expected to last? What if…"

"As long as it is needed, Doctor Beckett," Woolsey replied tersely.

"Remember, full cooperation, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard," said Landry after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "And keep me posted on the status of the rescue operation." A brief look of concern spread across the SG commander's face. "I want her back, safe and sound, as much as you do, gentlemen."

"We all do," Woolsey echoed quietly.

"Thank you."

Carson gave John a sympathetic look as the screen flashed black and the gate shut down. "Well, I suppose it could be worse."

"How?"

"It could have been Woolsey."

--/--

Teyla passed through the control room, nodding politely to a few of the young men and women who were buzzing around the Ancient equipment. Many of the scientists she had come to know and like very well over the course of her time in Atlantis, and they all worked diligently for the betterment of not only their own civilization, but the others of this galaxy as well.

Rodney was hunched over the dialer's control panel, studying readings on one of the expeditions' many laptops, no doubt trying to decipher the dialing crystals they had acquired from M1M-136. The remains of an energy bar wrapper lay at his side; if he had forgone meals to study the equipment, then he was indeed deeply worried about Doctor Weir.

She turned towards the jumper bay when a familiar figure caught her eye, leaning up against the doorway of what many of the Lanteans had jokingly dubbed 'the fish bowl'—the office Elizabeth used for her day to day activities.

Teyla crossed the small bridge, coming up quietly alongside John as he studied Elizabeth's desk, decorated with a few personal items and her laptop. She remained by his side for a moment before he finally noticed her presence, straightening up uncomfortably and shoving his hands in his pockets.

She had known him long enough to understand what he was feeling at that moment; the fear and frustration which he so often bore on his shoulders as commander of Atlantis's military force. She also knew he would never discuss it openly, with her or anyone else.

"I understand Colonel Caldwell will be arriving soon."

"Yeah, the Daedalus is scheduled to arrive in the next few hours."

"And he is to assume the leadership of Atlantis?"

"Temporarily." There was a flash of fire in his eyes.

"But it does mean Atlantis will now be under military control—for the time being?"

He turned to face her, the fire dying away. "Is that going to be a problem?"

She frowned. "I do not believe so. However, I want to be prepared. The last few times…"

"This isn't a combat situation, Teyla. Caldwell is assuming authority so we can focus on the search and rescue. Besides, he knows you. And Ronon. He's not going to question your loyalty."

"I was not concerned about myself. I just want to make sure that my people receive the same considerations they have been given by Doctor Weir. With the new situation they are almost wholly dependant on Atlantis's protection and support."

He stiffened, turning back to the empty office. When he spoke, his voice sounded rough. "They will. I'll make sure of that personally."

"I would be very grateful."

They stood there for a moment more; he shifted uncomfortably, probably expecting her to leave. But it did not feel right, to leave him alone, here of all places.

"This was not your fault, John," she said finally.

He lifted his head. "I should have known better. I knew something was off. And that little bastard…" his lips tightened and he clenched his jaw, trying to stave off some emotion that threatened to surface. "If they hurt her…"

"I do not believe that is their intention," Teyla quickly replied. "Had they so wished it, they could have picked any number of times during their visit, and ours, to harm any one of us. They have a purpose for taking Doctor Weir, and I am certain we will discover that purpose soon enough."

"Why haven't they made contact?" he replied, his eyes trailing back to a small urn perched on the edge of Elizabeth's desk. "What's taking them so damn long?"

"Perhaps…they need time to consider their options."

"What options? What could they possibly want from us they don't already have? They're descended from Ancients. Or talk to Ancients. Or something having to do with Ancients."

"They are perhaps more understanding of Ancient was, but by all indications their society is no more advanced than the Genii—and more than once the Genii have sought Atlantis's Earth advancements for their own gain. The Immarians may wish the same."

"And what if they don't?"

"What do you mean?"

He turned, looking down at her. "You don't kidnap Heads of State to bargain for medical supplies. You know that. This is Kolya all over again."

"That situation was different, John. That matter was personal. And he wanted a person in exchange for your life, not things. Doctor Weir had no choice but to refuse his demands."

"And she made the right call. But if these people want something we can't give them…I don't know if I can allow anyone to make the same decision."

Teyla watched him for a moment. "We shall cross such a path when we come to it. For now, let us have faith that it shall not come to that."


	8. Helpless

The fire in the tent was starting to die away. Beyond the canvas it must have been cold; Elizabeth could feel the chill as it crept through the small cracks in the tent's thick surface.

She made a mental note of that to jot alongside the other small observations she'd made about this place. No heating and electricity to speak of, apparently; much more of a rustic lifestyle—the air smelled smoky, like dried meat and wood stoves. And now cold.

It wasn't much, but it at least ruled out technologically advanced planets and those with all-over tropical climates.

Her headache had faded to a dull ache; enough to slow down any attempt at escape, but not impeding enough to be bothersome. Give her a good book and a bath and she'd be perfectly content.

Elizabeth chuckled to herself; now she was beginning to sound like John, which meant she was probably more delirious than she thought.

The tent flaps rustled again, and she rose quickly, wiping the smile from her face. She'd been expecting Sita; the appearance of Karon as he pushed into the small, tight space sent a tremor of fear through her. Though he'd not technically laid a hand on her, minus the incident of throwing the tray, the strength of his fury—and the obvious command he wielded—frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

He smiled coldly; probably in response to the authoritative look she was giving him. "Your presence is requested at a hearing."

"Really? Well, it might surprise you to hear that I have really no interest in attending a hearing where I won't be allowed to speak."

"Please, Doctor Weir. We are not as backwards as that. You will be given a chance to defend yourself. If you can do so appropriately."

He took a step towards her; she folded her arms in front of her, not stepping back. Being afraid was one thing; _showing_ it was another. If he expected to intimidate her, he had another thing coming. "Appropriately? I presume that means under the rules established by _your _laws. Laws which sanctioned assault and kidnapping. But then, that's probably not how your people see it, is it?"

The smile faded from his face. "Regardless of your opinion, you have no choice. Your presence is requested and you will attend. The way in which you do so is completely of your own choosing."

Elizabeth hesitated, then strode forward, past Karon and out of the open tent flap. The brightness of the world hit her immediately, as did the cold—it really was a great deal chillier than it had seemed inside the tent.

When her eyes adjusted she found herself sandwiched between two male members of the warrior guild. Karon took the front and marched on, through a small clearing filled with tents like the one she'd been kept in—rather plain in color but decorated with Ancient symbols—and up a hill towards high cliffs.

Her headache rose to a sharper throbbing; she struggled to keep her balance and thanked her good senses she hadn't attempted escape earlier. She wouldn't have made it out of the circle.

They cleared the hill in a matter of minutes; breaking through a tall grove of what she would have called fir trees. The cliffs that had towered over them in the distance now seemed massive, and even more so the closer they came. She swallowed and tried not to look up as they approached the sheer side of one of them; rising so high above her now it seemed to waver near the top.

Karon tapped on the stone face and suddenly the side of the wall became watery, similar to the Stargate. She frowned, trying to recall where she'd seen an entry like that before. All she vaguely remembered was that it had hurt to enter it—and it had led somewhere dangerous.

She braced herself as her guards pulled her through the gateway. Surprisingly, it felt cold—and not at all painful.

The air on the other side was blissfully warmer; the smells much more appropriate to the inside of a baker's kitchen. They marched her through a cave-like tunnel—the same as on the world of the Sanctuary, that's where she'd remembered the door—and through a decorated archway. The sky rolled back into clear view; bright and fresh, though the air remained warm and pleasant.

In front of them was a clearing, surrounded on all sides by stone walls. The clearing itself, amidst sparse groups of trees, housed a small, rustic community. Buildings of wood, stone and canvas lay scattered about, while doorways peppered the sides of the surrounding stone walls, climbing all the way to the top, long stairways snaking between them. Children dressed in furs and tunics, much like those worn by Karon and his group, laughed cheerfully as they ran through the town circle.

At the far edges of the clearings, in the positions the military would refer to as nine, twelve and three o'clock, were buildings set into the stone with doorways very similar to the one she'd just been escorted through. The biggest difference was the elaborately formed stain glass designs worked into the stone, stretching all the way to the top of the cliffs and fanning out a few meters on either side. The effect was like having the entrances to three stone cathedrals at the far ends of the peaceful town.

She realized the cliffs they'd passed through had not been naturally formed. The perfect circle they made around the clearing, along with the flawless exterior, indicated they had been placed in that formation, probably for the purpose of sheltering the city. Considering their massive size, it was an incredible feat.

But then, so had Atlantis been.

The arch directly opposite of her caught her eye. Above the stone door was Ancient lettering; she could barely make out the characters in the language.

"_Testament_," she murmured, squinting to get a better look. It was a word Sita had referred to in one of their earlier conversations. She paused, trying to remember the details. It had to do with the workings of the society, she was certain.

Something slammed forcefully into her back, knocking her to the ground. Pain flooded through her already throbbing head and her arm went numb.

The cheerful bustling about them had stopped; passers-by were stunned into a pin-drop quiet as the guard who struck her hauled her to her feet. She struggled against him for a moment but his fingers found her throat.

"You are not allowed to even look in that direction," he hissed into her ear, his grip tightening. "Keep your eyes down."

The people around them looked startled—but not surprised. Slowly, they began to turn away, disregarding the group of warriors and their captive.

Karon's face was blank; he studied her coldly, but did nothing.

"Ye…yes…" she managed as the guard tightened his grip. He clenched his jaw for a moment longer, holding her up on her toes, before releasing her. Elizabeth staggered back into the other warrior, who seized her firmly, keeping her on her feet. She swallowed, one hand rising to her throat, her face flushed with anger and humiliation.

Karon turned away without another word, and began a quick march towards the large archway to their right. She could read the letter above that archway as well; this time she kept it to herself.

_Judgment._

The guards bustled her along, forcing her through the doorway. She wasn't sure why one had felt the need to strike her, but both wore identically unreadable expressions, completely unfazed by the situation. Either they were trying to put on a show, or the lashing out was something that occurred on a regular basis.

She prayed the former was the case.

As they entered the cave-like room, Elizabeth paused, astonished by what lay before her. In the same way the Immarians had been both amazed yet unsurprised by Atlantis's magnificence, so she was about their Halls of Judgment.

The inside of the cave, unlike the relatively simple entrance hall they'd first come through, was paved and carved very much like the inside of Atlantis. Ancient tiles and lights decorated the elaborately constructed area, which contained many levels and stories. Panels of Ancient technology hummed softly throughout the cavern. Everything rose up so far above her she could not see the top through the darkness.

The stained glass design—which she'd taken for decoration—was actually very much like Atlantis's great balcony window, allowing natural light inside. It adorned only the inner walls, facing towards the meadow in the center of the stone circle. The outer walls remained smooth and unmarked, which gave the outside of the stone cliffs their rustic, natural appearance. It was perfect camouflage.

The ones who created the stone circle must have carved out the entire inside of the circular cliffs for Ancient use, while allowing the inhabitants to create the rustic town in the sheltered center. It was absolutely ingenious, and a true mark of Ancient culture.

One of the guards gave her a sharp nudge and she nodded, startled from her observations. They marched forward slowly, where the pathway split. To the right, a stone staircase not unlike the Grand Staircase of Atlantis led up to a stone door marked "Elders."

Karon headed to the left, towards a small tunnel. As he entered the tunnel lit up with inset lights—similar to the way Ancient technology reacted to the Ancient gene. When they emerged on the other side, in a room lit only by artificial bubble lamps, lay a building nestled inside the stone walls. Though staircases rose on either side of it, disappearing into the darkness higher up, the building itself looked almost like a church.

A female warrior waited in front of the large wooden-and-glass doors, hoisting them open as they drew near. Karon went in first; he made an announcement in Ancient that she could barely make out: '_we have come'._

The second door swung open, and her escorts pushed her forward, into a blinding golden light.

--/--

"This is a mistake."

This was the fifth time Rodney had said as much since word came that the _Daedalus_ was on approach. Sheppard's reaction this time was to frown at him slightly and cross his arms.

He'd been remarkably quiet throughout the preparations for Colonel Caldwell; he'd even kept his calm as Chuck cleared a space on Elizabeth's desk for the colonel's things. Probably due to the painkillers Carson had given him for the finger. But nothing eased the general sense of disquietude at the now imminent approach of military leadership. Like Sumner and Everett before him, Caldwell was that old, staunch vanguard that always considered themselves right and rarely had time to listen to _good_ advice.

Sheppard could be stubborn, but he had Elizabeth talking him out of being a complete idiot most of the time.

Rodney felt a sudden, sharp pang of regret at the thought of Elizabeth. The image of her sprawled across the gateroom floor as everything went crazy was hard for him to get past; as was the idea of her being held prisoner by a bunch of barbarians. They needed to find her. As quickly as possible. And the last thing they needed was Caldwell taking over and stonewalling their best efforts.

Yet here they were, ready to hand him the keys to the city.

"This is a mistake."

"Shut it, McKay," Sheppard hissed.

A golden light filled the gate room, and the weathered face of Stephen Caldwell, Colonel and commander of the Daedalus, materialized into view. He barely glanced at the group surrounding him before stepping towards the stairs.

"Any word, Colonel Sheppard?"

Sheppard shook his head, a seemingly unreadable expression on his face. Rodney knew him better than that; the only time Sheppard was ever expressionless was when he was feeling vulnerable. Seemed he was still beating himself up about the kidnapping.

"None, sir. None of our contacts on M1M-136 have turned up anything."

"What about the dialing crystal?"

Sheppard glanced over. "McKay and his team have been analyzing it for the last few hours."

"We should have the results momentarily."

"And what do you think we're expecting to find?"

"How should I know? That would be the point of an analysis."

Caldwell turned, mouth set in a tight line. Rodney sighed, trying to maintain a little patience. Everything would go a little easier with patience, and what mattered right now was making things easy. He owed that to Elizabeth. "We've pulled the last ten addresses dialed out. Zelenka's cross-referencing them with our database to find out where they go, then the marines can do their thing and send out search and rescue teams."

"Keep me updated," Caldwell said, as they reached the bridge to Elizabeth's office. "And dial Earth. Let them know we've arrived."

"Yes, sir," Sheppard returned quietly. Unusually quiet, actually. Rodney had been expecting a least a little head-butting when Caldwell arrived.

The Colonel made his way to the spot behind the desk where Elizabeth's chair normally sat. Someone had replaced the plush leather high back with a standard steel chair.

"Did he really have to be set up in there?" Rodney muttered.

"It's what Elizabeth would have wanted," John replied, sounding like he had a mouth full of wool. Rodney noticed his fists flexing as Caldwell shoved aside some of Elizabeth's picture frames to make himself more room. Maybe there would be head-butting later on. "Makes things easier."

"Right. Easier." They made their way back towards the dialer; Chuck looked up at them sadly but said nothing.

"Dial Earth," Sheppard said in the same melancholy tone he'd been using all afternoon. "Tell them the _Daedalus_ is here and that Colonel Caldwell has assumed command."

"Temporarily," Rodney added hastily.

"Yes, sir."

The lights began to race along the ring below them; Rodney felt a sense of déjà vu, the images of the previous few hours blurring together. "This doesn't feel real," he murmured, as the wormhole cleared the event horizon. "I keep closing my eyes and expecting her to come up behind me, asking about paperwork or how the latest research is going."

"Yeah," John replied, swallowing. "Me too."

"We are going to find her, right?"

Sheppard cast a swift glance across the room. Most of the techs had stopped what they were doing and were now watching with beleaguered expressions. "Yes, we're going to find her," he replied quietly, giving the room a reassured look. "It's just a question of when."

Rodney swallowed, not entirely convinced, and feeling more helpless than he had in a very long time.

--/--

Elizabeth freed herself carefully of the guards' tight grasp, throwing Karon a dirty look. He smiled and gestured up the aisle, where a long desk stood, facing what looked like an elevated courtroom bench.

A handful of Immarians sat, watching, as she moved forward. The bench before her was empty, save for a few Ancient looking adornments. She was shoved rather unceremoniously in one of the chairs at the table, her guards still at her side, feeling a bit like a prisoner in one of those old sci-fi movies John liked to watch so much.

She suddenly felt helpless; her mind darted back to the last 'movie night' she'd attended—some three or four months ago, though John insisted on having one at least once a week. Why hadn't she gone more? She couldn't think of the reasons, now.

She'd give anything to see the faces of her friends at this moment, laughing at ridiculousness of those movies but enjoying them all the same.

A sharp crack brought her back to the room, where the Immarians had risen to their feet. One of her guards hoisted her out of the chair as Karon approached the bench. A doorway near the front of the room opened, ushering in a group of men.

Elizabeth watched in astonishment as they ascended the dais, taking their positions like a row of justices, ready for an appeal. A small flicker of hope fluttered through her as she took in their dress and the expressions on their faces.

The men seated before her were dressed like Ancients. From the style of their wardrobe and clothes, to their seemingly supercilious attitude, they shared every trait of the few Ancients Elizabeth had had contact with.

And if they were Ancients, they should understand.

The crowd took their seats, but Elizabeth remained standing.

"My fellow guild members," Karon addressed, making a small bow to the group, "I bring before you one of the offenders of Atlantis."

The Ancient positioned at the center of the group nodded toward her. "So we see."

The young man turned, observing her with a surprised expression. If Elizabeth didn't know better, he appeared a little embarrassed. Maybe his actions had gone too far.

"I apologize," he said quietly, turning towards her and gesturing. The guards beside her seized her arms, wrestling her down into the chair. She resisted automatically; giving one of the two ample reason to twist her hand back behind her, shoving her down to the table and causing her to grunt in pain.

The eyes of the room were on her, but those she could see looked away, embarrassed but unfazed by the actions. Everyone was used to it; that much was easy to tell. And no one would stop it.

Worse, the Ancients seated at the front of the room looked unmoved; their faces stoic and emotionless. An image of Helia, sealing off Atlantis from the expedition, flashed through her mind; the same fearful, bitter feeling creeping into the pit of her stomach. There was no remorse, no pity, no concern. Nothing.

She ceased struggling, dropping her head to the table as the guards released their grip. Her arms felt stiff and sore from the struggle and her headache had returned full force, though not all of it was due to the blow she'd taken from Sita.

The room around them was quiet as she lifted her head slowly, drawing up as straight as she could in the chair. Karon waited until she was fully composed before beginning again, addressing the Guild as he'd done before. They responded in kind, now less concerned with her appearance, and allowed the young man to begin the story.

She sat by in silence, praying that somehow this had all been a big mistake, and in a few hours, she'd wake up in Atlantis again, where everything was fine.

--/--

"Again," Teyla huffed, twirling her left stick back into position.

Ronon positioned himself at the far side of the ring, studying her. As usual, Teyla was inhumanely calm, her body postured for defense. There was no weakness, no point he could focus on to bring her down.

So he chose to do it the hard way—head on.

Teyla moved so swiftly he couldn't detect where she'd gone. He was whirling around in the opposition direction, his hands raised to protect his face, when she slammed one of her banto sticks squarely into his back, causing him to stumble forward. He barely avoided the second one, rolling out of the way just in time.

She was on the attack now, lightly treading across the ground between them, swinging with force as he pulled to his feet. He bent away, avoiding another strong blow, and dodged backwards, raising his arms. Teyla gracefully twirled, re-establishing her defense, and positioned herself into that impenetrable pose again.

He could stay where he was; wait until she broke, but many, many practice sessions with Teyla told him it was nearly impossible. He hated waiting, anyway.

He charged at her again, only this time he banked right as she planned for the head-on attack. Ronon swiped a foot towards her lower legs, but even as she adjusted for his new position, she was prepared. She avoided his sweep limberly, landing gracefully on her feet, and slammed her stick into his side. His own grace wasn't the equal of hers; he's barely regained his balance from the attack and her suddenly movements caught him off center. He tumbled to the floor in a heap, his side smarting, and pounded the floor with a grunt.

"You are not focused," Teyla remarked, as she helped him off the floor.

He nodded, stretching the area where she'd smacked him. "I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. He sighed, not bothering to argue. Teyla knew him far too well.

"You are the one who said that finding her would not be easy," she said a few moments later, after he'd pulled himself from the floor.

"I know." He flung a hand up over the door control, waiting until she moved past him to exit. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Colonel Caldwell appears more…serious, than most, perhaps, but he is as concerned with Doctor Weir's kidnapping as the rest of us. He will do everything in his power to find her."

"I'm not worried about Caldwell."

"Then what is troubling you?"

"Sheppard."

Teyla stopped, forcing him to turn back her way. "What about Colonel Sheppard?"

"You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" She tried to maintain a stoic face, but the expression of her eyes told him she knew exactly what he was referring to. Teyla could not conceal her emotions easily, even when she tried.

"He's off. They all are. McKay, everyone. They're scared."

She resumed walking, her attitude a little put-off. "They have never faced a situation like this. I believe it is normal for people to be a little frightened of what might happen."

"They've faced a situation like this," he said. "A couple of times."

"Not of this nature."

"What about the time I got caught?"

She frowned. "They were naturally very worried."

"And they acted like this?"

"Not…exactly. Colonel Sheppard was frantic, and he did insist on going after you once they discovered you were on Sateda." She made a face, as though recalling something. "But that situation was not the same as this."

"How?"

"You were…"

He watched her for a moment as she struggled to finish her thought.

"It was…just…not the same."

"It wasn't the same because I'm not Weir."

"Ronon..."

"They treat her differently. Everybody does."

"Of course they would. Doctor Weir is the leader of the expedition. Her capture has much broader implications than that of anyone else." She frowned as he gave her a skeptical look. "And, she is Elizabeth. Someone who came with them through the gate. Family. Of course they will be very concerned about her safety and will treat the situation personally. Especially as she is not a warrior. Those feelings are natural."

"They're also dangerous. You remember what happened when she got sick."

"Yes, I know that Colonel Sheppard ran a very great risk. But Ronon…that situation was different as well. She is not before them now, as she was then. Now she is missing…" She hesitated, pursing her lips. "You believe their concern for her will make them vulnerable?"

"I think it'll make them reckless."

"And what if they are somewhat reckless? The people of Earth tend to be that way about their people—even Elizabeth." She raised an eyebrow at him. "And if they are interested in bringing a fight to the Immarians you are the last person I would believe would have reservations about it."

"I wouldn't."

"Then what is really bothering you?"

"There's a thin line between reckless and careless. If Sheppard's not careful, the way he feels will make him cross it. Make him dangerous. To everyone, including you, Mckay—and especially Weir."

"Well, that is why we are here. To help him. And prevent him from making such mistakes." She studied him for a moment, her expression growing curious. "I have not seen you this bothered about anyone before. Why does this concern you so?"

An image of Melina flashed through his mind, and he struggled to keep his expression unreadable. "Let's say I know how it feels, trying to protect someone who can't protect themselves. What it does to you," he replied, clearing his throat.

Teyla knew better than to ask any more questions.

--/--

"Then it truly is the settlement of the Alterans?" one of the Judges asked, a slightly awed expression on his face. "The Great City?"

"Yes," Karon replied, smiling. "And it is every bit as magnificent as described."

"And yet, it is tainted," said the man referred to as Thorvir, the High Judge. Elizabeth frowned as he turned his gaze in her direction. "Because those unworthy of it have settled there."

"Their technology is impressive," Karon returned. Elizabeth had been surprised, to say the least, by his delivery of the story. She'd expected a very biased account of their experience, but the young man had honestly described the state of Atlantis as it was, covering everything down to her leadership with candor. "And some of them possess the blood of the Alterans, as some of our people do."

"And this one?" Another Judge, this one seated to the far left.

Karon's expression hardened. "She does not."

"What right did they claim in possessing the city, and placing it under the leadership of this woman? Any travelers claiming allegiance with the Alterans should have known their rights and laws."

Elizabeth stared confusedly between them. "Rights and laws?"

The judges drew silent, a slight murmur echoing through the observing crowd. Karon turned to her with a seething expression.

She swallowed, eyeing the tense posture of the guard who had struck her before. He made no move, nor did the men before her. "The Ancients we knew of left behind no record of 'rights and laws' dedicated to the governing of Atlantis."

Thorvir narrowed his eyes. "And how would you know what the records say? What someone translates for you may not be accurate."

"I would know because I can read them myself."

The gasp that fluttered through the crowd was louder this time; Thorvir rose from his chair, pointing his finger forward. "You lie."

She raised an eyebrow. "I have no reason to lie. Now I apologize for my forwardness, but my culture is not the same as yours. We do not possess the restrictions your laws have nor have we encountered such restrictions before. If I have offended your ways, then I am truly sorry. But I cannot understand how my people can be held responsible for breaking laws we did not realize we were breaking."

"You can be held responsible because you should have known _better_," Thorvir hissed angrily.

"How could we have known 'better'?" Elizabeth asked, her voice rising. "One of your people fully admitted that you have encountered races like ours before, where the hierarchy is different, and you had no problems understanding those cultures. How is mine any different?"

"They were base peoples, incapable of true enlightenment," said one of the other judges.

"Those who the Alterans established amongst our stars were naturally to be of a lesser order—base in manner and means. Their governance is acceptable for their ways. But they are not comparable to our ways."

"But you," Thorvir returned, "you claim allegiance and descent from the Alterans. You discovered the Great City. You have the capabilities of controlling its wonders, and you know of the history of the Alterans. Your culture should be familiar with the true ways. If you are, then you flaunt your disrespect for them publicly. If you are not, then you are not worthy to call yourself descendents of the Alterans. In either case, you have not earned the right to inhabit Atlantis."

Elizabeth clenched her teeth. "Once again, I apologize—but that is not for you to decide. Your ways were perhaps a result of Alteran guidance, but they are _not_ the only way of life in this galaxy. Nor are they the only correct ones."

"They are the only ones as far as you are concerned," Karon said quietly.

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, trying to tamp down the frustration. "You would not wish my people to punish you for violating their laws. You would think it unfair."

"And yet they would if they were to discover us, would they not?" returned the young man. "We have violated their laws by taking you."

"We would make sure you understand why—which quite obviously you do," she replied. "Our laws are in place to prevent people from harming one another."

"Those rules extended to preventing us exploration of Atlantis. Did that place your people in harm's way?"

"I don't know…would it?" She fixed him with a stare. "Considering your actions I don't think it was such a poor decision after all."

The sudden blow to her cheek knocked her so far backwards she tumbled into the crowd, which collectively gasped, a few shoving themselves out of her way. She raised a hand to her face, stunned, more from the swiftness of the act than anything else. The butterfly bandages Carson had applied earlier had ripped and her cheek was bleeding, along with her lip.

No one in the group offered her a hand. As with the crowd outside, they were startled by its suddenness, but not its brutality. Karon was poised over her, his eyes blazing, though the expression quickly faded the longer he watched her, frozen in place on the floor.

"That is enough for today," said Thorvir calmly. His stoic expression betrayed neither disdain nor approval for Karon's actions. "We shall decide what charges shall be leveled against this woman for her violation of the Alteran laws. She may be spoken for when the time comes. Until then, she is confined to the outer rings."

The group rose, everyone but Thorvir filing out as quickly as they'd come in. The rest of the crowd, who had apparently been drawn in through interest in the newest prisoner, began to exit as well.

Karon hovered over her, arms crossed, a strange expression on his face. The hand he'd used to strike her flexed automatically, though his attitude was not disdainful, as it had been in the tent before.

Thorvir watched them both, that stoic expression still in place. A part of her expected to see some kind of superiority in his manner; the brusque, chauvinistic attitude she'd so often experienced from men who still believed in dated hierarchies, or perhaps even a cruel smile.

But his face born none of that; instead, he simply observed her on the floor, still holding her cheek, his eyes narrowed and cold. There was no sense of dominance there—just repugnance.

She'd seen that look before—it was the same one Oberoth had given her when she'd still thought him human, that look of annoyance and disdain for a creature that he felt was of no value to him whatsoever. One whose life meant absolutely nothing.

As the guards pulled her to her feet a flutter of panic crept through her stomach. She'd faced Wraith, faced Replicators; faced kidnapping, terrorism, murder. Faced nightmares it seemed impossible to dream about.

None of them had scared her as much as this moment. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth knew there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, that would make any kind of difference. For a person who had spent her entire life finding answers to problems like these, the idea of there _being_ no answer—no solution—was absolutely terrifying.

And worse, there was no way out.


	9. Nothing

The tent felt confined after the grandeur of the community's stone circle, but Elizabeth felt safe in the smallness. No one bothered her but Sita, who seemed assigned to monitor her. She was folded into the corner now, mixing something that smelled tart in a small wooden bowl.

The area remained unguarded; at least Elizabeth had not caught sight of guards positioned anywhere. But as darkness settled on the area, it did not surprise her. Any prisoner would be a fool to attempt escape with the terrain being what it was, as well as the temperature on the planet, which grew colder as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.

The small fire pit provided ample enough warmth, though her sore bones and bruised arms were not truly appreciating the heat. Nothing seemed to soothe them.

Much like her fear.

Sita stood, brushing an ochre colored powder from her fingertips. "This is ready." She drew near Elizabeth, dipping a leather patch into the bowl. Elizabeth settled a little closer to the fire, wincing as the young girl examined the wound on her cheek.

"Must you provoke them so?" she sighed quietly.

Elizabeth mustered up a smile though it hurt to spread her lips. "Half the time I'm not even sure what I'm doing to 'provoke' them."

"I am sorry," Sita replied, stretching forward and laying the poultice on Elizabeth's right cheek. "Very sorry."

"No, Sita, you're not." Elizabeth frowned, removing the poultice and studying it for a moment. "You may feel guilty, perhaps, but you're not sorry."

The warrior frowned. "But I…"

"If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't let it happen. You wouldn't leave me with them, and you wouldn't allow me to be represented this way. No decent human being would."

"You cannot understand," Sita replied tersely, rising to her feet. "There is much you do not know. Much you cannot comprehend."

"I know you care about Karon a great deal."

The young warrior frowned. "I will not deny that. As a friend and compatriot, Karon is very important to me. But that is not enough for me to disregard the situation. There is more to everything than that."

"Perhaps there is more to everything. But I believe your feelings are enough to sanction _his_ actions, at least, and forgive him, even if what he does goes against your conscience. Maybe you should consider looking at why."

"I must get back." The girl gathered up her pack, rising. "I have much to do."

"I'm sure you do."

At the entrance flap, Sita turned. "I will not apologize for my choices, Doctor Weir. But I will say that, whatever you may think, I do what I do because I have faith in his choices. I trust him, with my life. If your Colonel Sheppard were forced to do the same as Karon, I believe you would support him, would you not? Even if it tested your judgment?"

"My Colonel Sheppard would never be the same as Karon, Sita," Elizabeth replied softly. "He would never test my judgment. Not like that. And even if it somehow came to having to do something like this, he would talk to me about it first. We would agree to sanction it together. That's the kind of trust _we _share."

"That is perhaps the difference between your culture and mine," Sita said.

"No." Elizabeth smiled again, feeling heavy-hearted. "It is the difference between the people."

--/--

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John turned to see Carson Beckett hurrying across the gateroom floor, arm raised. John paused, putting his hands on his hips, trying to maintain a sense of calm. He'd successfully managed to avoid the expedition members for most of the morning, other than the ones he'd needed to see. But it was getting harder to do as the day wore on.

He didn't blame them for asking the questions—everyone wanted to know how the search was going—but each time he gave them the answer, it was a brutal reminder of the truth.

They had nothing.

"Colonel…"

"The answer is not yet," John said, giving Carson a second to catch his breath before he started forward again, towards the stairs.

"What?" The doctor gave him a confused look. "What about?"

When John turned with a skeptical look, Carson's eyes widened. "Oh. I wasn't going to ask…I mean, of course I'm concerned, but that's not what I was going to…" He frowned. "What I mean to say is that I was wondering if there was anything I can do."

It was John's turn to be surprised. "Anything you can do?"

"Yes, you know, paperwork, check on some of the marines, maybe fly a team somewhere? Anything you need help with?"

"You want to volunteer to fly a team somewhere."

"Well, only if you need it."

"Don't you have research to do? Xeno-bio-something or other?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then get to it." John started up the steps two at a time.

"But I can't!" Carson's whine was loud enough to stop most of the gateroom traffic and even caused a few of the techs to peer from the control room down at them. John cast an annoyed expression their way before jogging back down to where the doctor stood.

"Get a grip, doc."

"I'm sorry. But everything…" he lowered his voice at John's tense expression. "Everything that I have to do was assigned by Elizabeth. Whenever I start I go back to thinking about those bloody Immarians and what they did to her. And how I treated them when they first arrived. I should have been able to tell—I've dealt with enough people in this galaxy to be able to tell the difference between people who are hostile and not. I should have…"

"Just…stop." John summoned his best determined face, though the image of Elizabeth being dragged through the gate flashed through his mind once more. "None of this was your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault."

"I know that. It doesn't make me feel any less responsible."

"Look…the only thing we can do right now is just do what we're doing—and not think about the 'what ifs'. There's no time for that. Feel guilty later. Right now, we need to not give up hope. We'll get the break we need; it's just going to take some time."

Beckett eyed him for a moment. "You sound like her."

The observation caught John more off-guard than he anticipated; he felt a lump rise in his throat and clenched his jaw. "I'll let you know if there is anything we need from you," he managed to whisper, patting Carson on the shoulder. "In the meantime, check with Teyla and see if the Athosians need a visit."

"Thank you, Colonel," Carson returned. "Remember, _anything_…"

"I'll let you know."

John watched as he slowly exited the gateroom, trying to keep his own emotions in check. Each hour this situation dragged on, the harder it became to contain them.

He caught sight of Caldwell standing on the bridge between Elizabeth's office and the control room, casually leaning forward, observing the bustle of activity in the gateroom. He flashed a quick glance at John, looking stoic as ever, then straightened and headed back into the glassed-in room.

Carson was right in one respect—being trapped in this place with nothing to go on wasn't helping anyone. Something had to be done, even if the effort was somewhat fruitless.

Something had to be done. Before they all went crazy.

--/--

Night brought little comfort to Elizabeth; her injuries only seemed to ache more as the darkness wore on. There was no sleep for her; her mind was racing far too quickly to allow her any kind of peace, and the cold, despite the fire pit, still bit at her skin.

She'd been offered neither a change of clothes nor the chance for a bath; she didn't expect to get one unless Sita or one of the other women noticed. Not that either would have made her feel better.

When morning came she wasn't expecting much other than what she'd been treated to in the past twenty-four hours.

So when Sita did not appear after the dawn broke, Elizabeth began to grow concerned. She hoped the argument they'd had the night before had not caused the girl to withdraw her kindness. Elizabeth had been tired, worn down, and in pain, and had taken her frustration out on the one person in this place who had shown her pity.

_Some diplomat you are, Weir._

The tent flap finally opened around what Elizabeth presumed was lunchtime; at least, it felt that long. She rose, her head still throbbing, as Karon entered, looking no more pleasant than he had the day before.

She didn't need to be told twice what was going on. The trial must have been scheduled for today. Elizabeth didn't allow him the courtesy of gesturing her over to him; instead she raised a hand and walked forward, pausing long enough to allow the two guards to flank her.

She kept her head down, eyes to the floor, lips pressed tightly together. No random observations or curious stares today. Nothing to give them a reason to strike. Elizabeth had learned her lesson from yesterday; one of the things she prided herself on—at least, she had before this experience—was being a keen observer.

How much that would help when they reached the courtroom, she wasn't sure. But she had a very clear sense, given what had happened so far, that every little bit mattered.

She just wasn't sure if it mattered enough.

--/--

"It's not a matter of want, Colonel. What I'm concerned about is whether a move like this is reasonable or even necessary."

John did his best to maintain a straight face as Caldwell leaned back in his chair, folding one leg over the other. "I'm not suggesting we form strike forces, Colonel Caldwell. Just that we send out a few recon teams, in addition to the teams currently checking out the addresses Rodney found, to scout around, ask questions, that sort of thing."

"Do you really believe that would be smart? With the exception of Doctor McKay's research into the dialing crystal, we basically have no idea where in the galaxy they might have gone. Or who we should really be looking for."

"We're looking for Elizabeth," John returned sharply.

Caldwell studied him for a moment, folding his hands over his chest. "I understand your concern, Colonel. And the desire to get out there and do something. But the fact of the matter is, you'd be searching for a needle in a haystack, and wasting valuable resources in the process."

"It's better than sitting here on our…hands, doing nothing." He fixed Caldwell with a sharp look. "If this were Elizabeth's call, she'd agree with me."

The Colonel's eyes narrowed. "As we're all more than well aware, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, this isn't Doctor Weir's call."

John studied him for a moment, feeling the heat rise on the back of his neck. A part of him wanted to take one of the figurines edging Elizabeth's desk and chuck it straight at the Colonel's perfectly hard head. His bet was it'd smash into a thousand pieces before it made a dent on Caldwell.

Elizabeth would smile at him for that. Smile, then chastise him for the thought—and then chastise him some more for even considering damaging her pottery.

The anger dissipated; a crushing, empty feeling replacing it. Elizabeth wasn't here. She was gone, and he had no idea where or how to find her.

The weight of the last few days seemed impossibly heavy. A sudden desire to get as far away from the office and Caldwell overtook him, and he rose. "I'm sorry sir," he managed. Caldwell's stony expression faded as he turned for the door.

"Colonel, wait." Caldwell held up a hand, tapping on his headset. "Doctor McKay, can you report to Doctor Weir's office, please?"

John watched him in surprise as he motioned him back to the chair, while apparently getting an earful from Rodney about being summoned.

"I'm not asking," Caldwell said sternly, cutting the headset off before anything else could be said.

John sat back down, wondering what Caldwell wanted from Rodney. And why he had to be here for it.

Caldwell offered no explanation; simply steepled his fingers and waited patiently, the same blank expression on his face as before.

It only took a few minutes for Rodney, with Zelenka in tow, to stomp through the control room and into Elizabeth's office. John flashed him an insincere smile, but the scientist barely gave him a glance, instead focusing his ire on Caldwell's still emotionless face.

"What? This had better be good for pulling me off those crystals. You're interrupting valuable…"

"I wanted to see how much progress you and your teams have made."

Rodney blinked twice. "What?"

"Have your research teams discovered anything, Doctor McKay?"

"That's what you called me up here for? Dragging me away from what could be essential research to give you a status report? Look, I know you've only been here a few hours, but let me introduce you to one of our more valuable assets on Atlantis—the _headset. _See, you push this little button here; you ask 'Rodney, what is your progress' and then you wait for me to respond. If I don't, chances are we haven't made much progress."

"I wanted you here because Colonel Sheppard has made an interesting proposition and I need to know how far you've gotten on the dialing crystals."

Rodney made one of his signature 'do I look stupid' faces. "What does something he wants to do have to do with what I'm doing?"

Caldwell narrowed his eyes. "Just answer the question, Doctor. Have you gotten any further with the crystals?"

The sour expression faded from Rodney's face and for the first time since he'd arrived, he looked over at John. "We have nothing."

Caldwell leaned back in his chair, studying McKay with an expression of irritation. "What do you mean 'nothing'?"

"Nothing means nothing," Rodney snapped. "What, do I have to spell it out?"

"The database cross-analyses were inconclusive," interrupted Doctor Zelenka, a weary look on his face. "None of the addresses on the dialing crystals appear to be of any help."

"The scouting teams haven't picked anything up, either," Rodney continued, apparently conceding to Caldwell's need for an explanation. "There were only two that were inhabited—and neither one of them had anything to do with a semi-advanced Ancient-based civilization. The other eight were uninhabited planets with no traces of civilization, at least according to the Ancient Database. We were going to have a few more teams check out the last few planets before we handed you our findings."

"But so far?"

"It does not look good," Zelenka said.

"So basically what you're saying is that these people have somehow disappeared off the face of the galaxy?"

"So it would seem." Rodney's irritated expression crumpled for a moment.

John closed his eyes, trying to hold back the frustration. Another dead end. They'd spent over thirty hours on analysis and S and R, with nothing accomplished but Caldwell rearranging his desk, dialing up a few contacts and checking on the maintenance on his ship.

More time wasted, as the Immarians got further away with Elizabeth.

"It is entirely possible they made a second jump," Radek continued. "There is just no way to tell initially which gate they might have taken. We'd have to analyze the dialing crystals from every gate in sequence from the ones initially listed."

"And then what happens when they're not on those planets?" Rodney snapped. "We take the next fifty crystals from the next fifty gates? They could have jumped sixteen times by now! Are you going to gather those crystals too?"

Radek fixed Rodney with a dark look. "Do you have another suggestion, Rodney?"

"No, but apparently _he_ does," Rodney muttered, nodding towards John.

"Colonel Sheppard has proposed sending out recon teams to do a little scouting of their own."

"What, randomly?"

"Not randomly," John replied. "We'll check out our allies, planets who might possibly have a connection with the Immarians." He turned to Caldwell. "Look, we've been keeping this secret from the rest of the galaxy because we didn't want anyone to know what happened to Elizabeth. Now, I don't think we have a choice."

"Yes, we have a choice! I agree that we're not getting anywhere with the crystals—yet. But going out and _randomly _asking around the Pegasus galaxy whether they've seen Elizabeth and a bunch of fur-clad barbarians does not sound to me like a good plan!"

"It's better than anything else we've got, Rodney," John hissed, rising to his feet.

"I agree with Doctor McKay," Caldwell returned.

John glanced over at him, raising his hands to his hips. "But…"

"I agree that asking around to random inhabitants isn't going to do us any good—and it's going to let more people than we might want, at this point, to know Doctor Weir's situation. But I think there are one or two races that we might want to consider speaking with."

"Anyone in particular you had in mind?"

"The reports I've been going over mention the Genii have insinuated themselves pretty well around this galaxy."

"The Genii," Rodney deadpanned. "Right. Because we'd completely want _them _to know Atlantis was attacked and Elizabeth kidnapped."

"As I understand it, Atlantis has a working treaty with them. They are also the most well-connected race in this galaxy."

"Yeah, if by well-connected you mean guilty of intergalactic espionage! Look, the Genii are definitely…widespread. That doesn't mean they're _trustworthy_! They nearly sacrificed Sheppard—twice! And believe me, they have no qualms about…"

"Enough, Rodney," John said. He turned to Caldwell. "Ladon Radim is a better ally than his former commander but I agree with McKay—he's not exactly the best example of trustworthiness out there."

"Well, as we're not looking to ally with them, just get some information, that shouldn't be much of a problem. From what I can tell, Doctor Weir had a pretty good relationship with Radim."

John swallowed. "Yes."

"She spared his life," Rodney added, looking suddenly subdued.

"Then maybe he'll be willing to return the favor," Caldwell said quietly. "Colonel Sheppard, have your team prepped in an hour. I'll contact the Genii homeworld and let them know you're coming."

"Wait a minute—why do we have to go?" asked Rodney. "Can't you just dial him up and ask him yourself?"

John threw Rodney a frustrated look as Caldwell circled the desk, coming toe-to-toe with the scientist.

"Because one thing I've learned from dealing with untrustworthy people, Doctor McKay, is that they become a lot less willing to lie directly to your face."

"You've never met the Genii," Rodney muttered, taking a cautious step back.

Caldwell eyed him for a moment, then moved back towards his chair. "Dr. Zelenka, continue your tests on the dialing crystals of the additional gates—see if you can manage to turn up anything. Keep me updated. Colonel Sheppard, if you can, see to it that the Genii don't ascertain exactly how serious the situation really is."

"We're visiting them in person to beg their help finding Elizabeth," John said quietly. "Ladon's not a fool. He'll know exactly how serious the situation is."

The Colonel studied him for a moment. "What would you suggest then, Colonel?"

"Nothing. We have no choice right now."

"You're right. Right now, we don't."


	10. Negotiation

The walk to the courtroom, if it could be called that, took less time than Elizabeth remembered. Or maybe the fact it was without incident this time made it seem faster. Whatever the case, they reached it in a matter of minutes.

Unlike yesterday, the judges were already in place; the audience was also seated, and had grown some from the day before—Immarians crowded the benches and were packed in towards the back of the hall. She moved to take her seat, as they'd seemed to require the day before, but one of the guards grabbed her roughly by the arm, keeping her on her feet.

Her return stare must have spoken to him, because rather than reach back to strike, as she would have expected, he flinched for a moment, an uncertain expression crossing his face, and released her.

As she faced forward, Thorvir rose from his position at the bench. "Doctor Elizabeth Weir."

She turned, crossing her arms in front of her.

Thorvir set his jaw a moment, then took a breath and continued. "You have been charged with violating the Alteran laws of governance as they pertain to the inhabitation and leadership of an Alteran outpost—namely, the great city of Atlantis. You have broken these laws willingly, without remorse, and in known violation of the Alteran statutes governing all Alteran society, including those claiming inhabitance of Atlantis. Do you concede these violations?"

Elizabeth waited for a moment as the room quieted. Thorvir looked at her pointedly.

"I do not concede them," she replied tersely. "In fact, I deny them altogether."

The men on the panel frowned in disapprobation. Thorvir heaved a sigh. "Very well. You shall be allowed the chance to defend yourself, within reason, of the various charges."

As he took his seat, Elizabeth slowly took hers, contemplating making a risky move. Risky in the sense of being subject to more of their 'discipline.' She decided it was worth the gambit—or the pain, whichever came first.

"And the punishment?" She asked loudly, as the ministers passed a few pieces of paper between them. Sita had told her before, but she wanted to hear it from them.

Thorvir cast a glance at her, then Karon, who stood beside her desk. The young man crossed his arms, looking surprisingly cowed today. None of the fire, or violence, seemed present in him.

When the minister turned back to her, his face bore a little bit of irritation. At least that proved he was human.

"The penalty, if you are found guilty, is death by exile."

She heard a sharp intake of breath; it took her a moment to realize that she was the one who made the sound. The world around her suddenly seemed numb, and cold, and incredibly dark. As her senses swam back into focus, she realized that nobody else seemed the least bit disturbed by this revelation. Condemning someone to freeze to death was, apparently, common.

Common, and accepted. And unconcerned.

Thorvir's emotionless expression had returned. "Let's begin."

--/--

Rodney sighed in frustration as Ronon and Teyla stepped up onto the dais, studying the glowing wormhole as it rippled before them.

"This is a waste of time," Ronon said calmly, checking the setting on his gun. For once, Rodney was actually glad he did that.

Teyla said nothing, though she glanced concernedly over at Sheppard, who looked about as expressive as one of the Atlantis bubble lamps.

"I am sure Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Caldwell have a reason for asking the Genii for help," she said finally, when Sheppard failed to acknowledge her.

"If the Genii knew anything they'd have contacted us already. Ladon's smart enough to know how valuable Weir is and what he can get in return for that information," Ronon replied.

At the mention of Elizabeth's name Sheppard's expression flickered for a moment.

Teyla frowned, her eyes still on his face. "How is your finger, Rodney?"

"Painful," he replied automatically. "I can barely work, much less fire a P-90, so let's hope the Genii don't want to get into any firefights."

"You can't fire a P-90 anyway," Ronon said.

Rodney made a face at him. "As it just so happens I have spent many a sleepless night in the firing range, thank you very much."

"Doesn't count if you don't actually shoot at things."

"I'm getting there! I just need to start small and build up to the big stuff. You know, work out angles, that sort of thing."

The Satedan looked at him amusedly.

"Let's go," Sheppard said suddenly, ignoring their conversation. Caldwell was watching the group from the left side balcony, a stoic expression on his face. Sheppard didn't even bother to acknowledge him, just trudged forward through the gate. Ronon and Teyla exchanged concerned glances and followed him.

This was not going well. Not at all. The longer it took, the more Rodney felt there was a distinct possibility Elizabeth would never be found.

"No," he muttered, in contradiction to himself. He rarely contradicted himself, but in this case, he just couldn't agree with the rational conclusion. There were still too many variables to consider. Like Sheppard, like Elizabeth—like Rodney himself.

Elizabeth wouldn't give up on him. She hadn't given up on him. He wouldn't give up on her.

He took a breath and followed his teammates through the wormhole.

--/--

Elizabeth lowered her head into her hands for a moment, taking a breath as the room around her quieted. When the shouting had tapered off into a dull murmur, she raised her head again. "Again, I am not arguing I don't understand the rules established by your Testament. What I am trying to explain is that we are unfamiliar with the Testament or any form of law established by the Ancients that bears resemblance to it. Nothing we have found, in Atlantis or on other worlds seeded by the Alterans, designates a specific code of laws for governing people. Especially not in the manner of Immaria!"

The courtroom broke out into shouting once more; Thorvir pounded a tome on the top of the desk, silencing both the other members of the panel and the audience.

"Please! Or you will be asked to leave!" His final words seemed to throw some restraint into the observers, who immediately quieted.

"Doctor Weir," he asked wearily, "do you deny that you have adapted Alteran technologies and customs?"

"Technologies, yes. We utilize Ancient equipment at all times. But customs, no. We are unaware of any Ancient customs we have specifically adopted in our time in Atlantis."

"But you have offered protection and sanctuary to the lesser races of this galaxy on Atlantis in the style of the Alterans?"

Elizabeth frowned. "If we have had the ability and they were in danger, yes. But that's not…"

"Have you controlled or manipulated any races through Atlantis?"

The leader of Geldar flashed through her mind. "Once, but that was…"

"Have you provided supplies, medical aid, governance, leadership or support to any of the races in this galaxy?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't we, if they were in…"

"Have you engaged in conflict with the Wraith in protection of Atlantis?"

"Yes."

"And do you possess the bloodline of the Alterans? Are you, Doctor Elizabeth Weir, a descendant of the 'Ancients', as you call them?"

She sighed. "No."

Thorvir's eyes narrowed. "Then what right, under anyone's law, do you have to defend your actions as anything other than usurping Alteran power and creating your own definition of their laws?"

"We have much a right as anyone else," Elizabeth responded firmly. "The Ancients left no rules that _we _have found dictating who should come into possession of any of their cities, their equipment, or their information. For people willing to learn, the rules and laws they created were open to interpretation. Whether directly descended or not, anyone who stumbled upon what they left behind has a right to study, understand, or use it."

"And use it to govern, support, guide, or protect others, I suppose?"

"Well, yes, if it is needed."

"Even if it forces those you are governing or supporting to adhere to your ways, to your judgments—even if those judgments contradict their ways?"

She narrowed her eyes, a distinct feeling as to where this was headed. "Within reason."

Thorvir studied her for a moment. "And what kind of reason would that be?"

"That they would not be treated unjustly."

"And how do you define what is just?"

Elizabeth frowned, hesitating for a moment. She knew she was right, but there were so many things under her watch that had, at times, gone wrong—the Genii opposition, the Hoffan plague, Michael. Things she would never have thought she could have condoned when she lived on Earth.

Thorvir sensed her hesitation. "Allow me to answer. Your definitions are based on your culture's judgments of what makes the lives of people better, of what is developed to protect them and secure their future happiness. At times, it may come at the expense of the lives of others, but that is the necessary price to pay to ensure your own people are safe and well."

She blinked. "I suppose that is one way to define them."

"Of course it is." For the first time that afternoon, the Guild leader smiled. "That is how we define our governance as well. But we have a stronger support for the claims of our ways and laws."

"Really."

"Allow me to call upon the wisdom of our Elders." A gasp went through the audience, followed by a reverential silence. Thorvir sat back, and the lights in the room dimmed. A shadowy image flickered in the space between her desk and the bench; eventually it solidified into a shape of a person—a man, wearing Ancient clothing and with a kindly expression on his face.

Elizabeth watched in astonishment as the man looked about the room, fixing her with a piercing blue stare. What she was looking at was a hologram very similar to the ones in the holo-room used to access the Ancient Database.

"The ways of Immaria are important," the man started, raising a hand gently. "They are the future of our race and all races among our stars. They are the ways to peace and tranquility. For those who abide by the laws established in the Testament, protection and peace will come to you. Though others may question your judgment, always remember that these rules have been established to protect and secure your future happiness. At times, that happiness may come at the expense of the lives of others, but that is the necessary price to pay to ensure your people are safe and well."

The hologram faded and the lights brightened. Elizabeth stared blankly at the area where the hologram had been, overwhelmed by the message of the Ancient she'd just seen and the unchallenged awe the people of this culture appeared to have for it. Beatific looks graced the faces of most of the audience members; even a few of the judges seemed caught up in the reverence.

Thorvir turned back to her. "So you see, Doctor Weir, our culture's history does not differ much from yours, only that our ways of living are different."

Elizabeth gathered herself, fixing Thorvir with a determined stare. "Whatever you might believe, my people would never willingly execute someone who had not honestly endangered their lives or the lives of anyone else. And if they _had_ posed a danger, our policies, with the exception of a few extraordinary circumstances, are to avoid needless death at all costs. Now, I won't deny that we have used our authority, and in some cases our superiority, to guide and influence the lives of others. But never, in the entire time we have held Atlantis, have we used that authority without concern for the lives of innocents. Whether we are descended from Ancients or not, the basic, fundamental principle of protecting human life has been the cornerstone of our culture. I don't believe the principles of the Alterans differed much in that regard. Can you honestly say your people, whatever their influences, act the same?"

The justices at the bench shifted a little. Thorvir himself sat back in his chair, frowning. Most of the looks of wonderment had faded from the faces of the audience members, who addressed this question with a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

"Our people believe in protecting those who _are_ innocent," Karon said suddenly, turning towards her. "But innocence is defined by many things, and your people, Doctor Weir, I would not describe as such."

"Why? Because we didn't afford you the opportunity to do as you would in the city? Because we forced you to leave sooner than you wished?"

"We are not as backward as that, Doctor. Affronts like that are slight, but would not constitute a violation of the laws of the Elders."

"Then why am I here? The only thing your people were denied on Atlantis was the ability to roam the city freely. Nothing else was kept from you. So can you tell me truthfully that the simple fact that we were there, inhabiting it, is the reason for all of this?"

She narrowed her eyes, rising from the desk. "Why don't you at least be honest about what's going on here? This has nothing to do with your 'Alteran laws'—and everything to do with the fact that you disliked being told what to do by a woman, and that has overshadowed any other kind of 'justice' you seeks to find? Isn't that the real issue here? That whatever lessons the Ancients left for you to learn, they've evolved into a system of prejudice and bias that doesn't honor their rules, but abuses them?"

The blow came swiftly, much more swiftly than she anticipated. A sharp strike from the left, tumbling her over the chair behind her and knocking her backwards into the crowd. Karon's arms reached out for her as she fell; surprisingly, the look on his face was one of surprise and dismay, not anger.

There was a sharp crack, and she realized, as the lights in the room dimmed once more, that she'd struck her head on the floor. Faces faded in and out of focus, murmurs came and went. One face stood out above the rest, drawing closer but yet fading away, until it blinked out of existence entirely.

--/--

The underground world of the Genii still felt strange for Teyla. For most of her life, she had lived with the simple belief that the Genii were a peaceful, farming people, not dissimilar from her own. A century long trade relationship had developed between their tribes, the only changes being younger friendly faces replacing the older ones.

Until the people of Atlantis had come, with their technical devices and often stubborn curiosity, revealing a world Teyla had never suspected or imagined could be real. It was then the Genii suddenly became enemies—dangerous ones, with agendas far more sinister than she would have dreamed possible from the kindly people she had known. At times, though she was always grateful to know the truth, she wished things were no so different from what they had been before.

The Genii escort guided them along rough, darkened pathways which led through the cave systems that sheltered their underground city. Despite the loss of many of their people from culling, the Genii continued to maintain their false peasant front. Most of the advanced races in this galaxy knew of the Genii's double identity, but it seemed important to their people to keep the lesser informed races unaware of their true natures.

They emerged into a large cavern lit by artificial lights, where a magnificent waterfall poured down into an underground lake. In the distance, portions of the city nestled neatly between the natural cave pillars which peppered the landscape.

A group of military trainees were performing hand-to-hand combat exercises on a platform built into an open area of the cave. Teyla paused as a young instructress shouted commands, the larger recruits cowing under her fierce stare.

She raised her head as they went past, examining the newcomers. When she took in Teyla her pretty face darkened, eyes narrowing. She was impossible not to recognize, though she had changed in the time since Teyla saw her last.

Sora.

She watched them pass for mere moments, then turned back to her group of trainees, flicking her red-gold curls, much longer now, over her shoulder. Though Teyla was heartened she had remained with Ladon, and not followed Kolya, it was obvious the young woman held no love for her or the other members of Atlantis. Elizabeth had been more than fair in her treatment of Sora, but the young Genii would never forget the unfortunate loss of her father, Tyrus, or the role Teyla had played in his death.

The rest of her party did not seem to notice Sora, or if they did, they did not care. Ronon possessed little knowledge of her; Rodney, little interest, but she suspected John would have at least offered Teyla an amused look at the young woman's presence.

Lightheartedness was not his concern at present, however. He passed through the Genii halls with little or no interest in their construction, or their people. From the last time Teyla had spoken with him, his spirit seemed to have dropped. She did not doubt he continued to blame himself, but he appeared to be losing hope in the outcome of the situation as well.

If so, Ronon's earlier fears might not be entirely unfounded.

The Genii guards led them into a well-lit, though small, control room with machines haphazardly connected throughout. A small desk was angled into one corner, where papers and a communication device lay.

"Commander Radim will be with you shortly," one of the Genii officers remarked, before leaving.

Rodney began to pace, immediately making a circuit of the room to observe the Genii's technologies. Ronon watched him uninterestedly, at least it seemed that way, though Teyla knew he was observing a great deal more than might appear.

John did not move, just remained standing where he was, one hand tapping slowly across the top of his P-90. Teyla watched him worriedly, uncertain of what to say.

Ladon appeared from a door to the left, striding in casually with a friendly grin, which faded as he took in the group before him. It spoke well of Ladon's character and abilities, that he was able to immediately ascertain when something was wrong.

"Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, Doctor McKay…Ronon," he said carefully, folding hands in front of him. "What brings you to our homeworld?"

"We need you to help us find someone," John replied, in a tone that defied contradiction.

Ladon studied him, eyes focused observantly on his face. After a moment his expression grew concerned. "You've lost Doctor Weir."

The tranquility of the room suddenly exploded into chaos as whatever restraint John had been forcing upon himself shattered; Ladon was pinned to the desk, struggling against John's unbreakable grip. Genii, armed with their small pistols, flooded the room as Teyla, Ronon, and even Rodney raised their weapons, circling their leader defensively.

Teyla glanced at Ronon, who looked primed for a fight, though his head was angled worriedly in Sheppard's general direction.

"Where the hell is she, Radim?" she heard John snarl. When Ladon didn't immediately respond there was a large crack, and the desk he was pinned to shifted violently.

The Genii soldiers released whatever safety devices were on their weapons, tiny clicks signaling the situation had gone from precautionary to tactical.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" John repeated, as his three teammates closed in around him, away from the approaching Genii. Rodney attempted to keep his P-90 steady in his injured hand, a wide-eyed expression on his face.

"Remind me, if we survive this, to thank Colonel Caldwell for the brilliant recommendation of face-to-face negotiation," he whimpered, as the Genii forced them even further into retreat.


	11. Representation

Carson was speaking to her; she could hear the light whisper of his brogue as he calmly commanded the med techs around him to help her up.

No, it wasn't Carson. She blinked and John's face swam into view, peering at her concernedly. He raised one hand to her cheek; she flinched, and he smiled at her, probably amused by her embarrassment.

She wanted to say something to him, but to her dismay, he began to fade too. Her heart pounded wildly, not wanting him to go, but his face slid into darkness and she realized almost immediately that what she was seeing was a hallucination.

A pair of soft hands came to rest on her shoulders and she flinched once more, but they patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Remember yourself," said a soft, withered voice.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring down the aisle, where the guard who'd struck her was watching was a clenched fist, next to Karon and his counterpart. Thorvir and two of the other Guild members had risen, presumably to observe the commotion.

Standing over her, an elderly woman with long silver hair bore a pleasant expression, one hand still on Elizabeth's shoulder, the other raised towards the front of the room. "Is this the kind of treatment you afford your guests, Thorvir? This kind of physical force?"

To Elizabeth's surprise, Thorvir hesitated in responding, looking with chagrin upon the calm, elderly woman before him. "Why are you here, Healer?" he asked finally, in a reserved tone of voice. "This is no place for you."

"And as you well know, only the Elders can restrict my entrance here. As it stands, I believed that I am needed. This creature needs someone who can speak for her."

"As you observed, she is quite capable of speaking for herself," Karon said, raising his chin.

"But not defending herself. Of which, it would appear, she has need."

Thorvir frowned. "If you wish to speak on her behalf, we will hear your words. But do not expect them to affect the decision. The rules are set. They have been broken, and the violator must be punished accordingly."

"We shall see," the elderly woman said pleasantly. "We shall see."

--/--

"LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!"

Radim's shout rang through the small communications room authoritatively; the rest of the Genii foot soldiers glanced at each other in surprise, their weapons remaining raised. Rodney did his best to look unexpressive, though he could feel his heart pounding. Ronon, damn him, hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Do it!" commanded the Genii leader, his words sounding a little garbled due to the pressure of Sheppard's forearm at his neck. The rest of the Genii hesitated, then slowly dropped their weapons one at a time. Rodney breathed an incredible sigh of relief and for the first time in his life felt like hugging someone Genii.

The soldiers retreated back, allowing Ronon, Teyla and Rodney to lower their P-90's.

"Where's Elizabeth?!" Sheppard questioned once more, looking completely unfazed by their brush with death by firing squad. Radim remained pinned to the table and Rodney threw a worried look at Teyla. The last thing they needed at this particular moment were the Genii to get defensive again.

"I don't know," Radim responded calmly. How the man managed composure pinned to a desk he had no idea. "If I did, I assure you, Colonel Sheppard, I would let you know."

"Colonel…" Teyla stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. Sheppard raised his head, unrelenting in his grip, and threw her a look that would have stopped a Wraith Queen in her tracks. Ronon shifted uneasily, his thumb grazing the setting of his gun. If Rodney didn't know Ronon trusted Sheppard completely, he'd swear the Satedan switched it to _stun._

John turned back to the Genii leader, "Then how the hell did you know she was missing?"

"Let me up and I'll explain," Ladon choked out. Sheppard hesitated for what seemed like forever, then slowly released him, backing him up off the desk and to his feet. The Colonel's hand travelled down to the grip of his P-90, the expression on his face unwaveringly dark.

"When you contacted us," Radim remarked, yanking the front of his Genii military coat straight, "I noticed it was Colonel Caldwell, not Doctor Weir, requesting a meeting with my people. Since Doctor Weir has always initiated contact with us from Atlantis, and Colonel Caldwell was rather secretive in his manner, I presumed something had happened. I wasn't certain it was serious until I saw you just now."

"So that's it? You just figured it out."

Ladon glanced between them. "Have you taken a look at yourselves recently? Unless Atlantis itself is under siege, what else would it be?"

Rodney frowned, giving Sheppard a once over. He did look rather haggard. In fact, he probably hadn't shaved in two days. Rodney raised a hand to his own chin, rubbing on the stubble that was growing there, and cast a sideways glance into a nearby metallic console. He didn't think he'd looked _that _bad, but he hadn't had much rest over the last few days. He really hadn't eaten much, either.

Ronon and Teyla looked fine. But then, they _always _looked fine.

"Doctor Weir is indeed missing," Teyla said, doing her best to ignore the glare Sheppard threw her at the admission. "She was taken two days ago by a race of people known as the Immarians. Have you heard of them?"

Ladon's frowned. "I do not believe so. Are they an advanced race?"

"They appeared to be of a rustic nature, but are in possession of some of the Ancestors' technology."

"And how were they able to take Doctor Weir?"

Sheppard's expression went flat, and he looked guiltily over at the rest of the group. Ronon crossed his arms. "Weir invited them to Atlantis."

"And they took advantage of her hospitality," Ladon finished, with a wary smile at the Satedan. "I think I understand."

"Well, good for you," Sheppard snapped. "Look, we came here to see if you'd heard anything. If you haven't…"

"Just because I don't know of the situation doesn't mean my people can't find out what happened to her," Ladon said.

"No thanks," the Colonel returned with a fake smile. "We've got it covered."

"It would seem you don't," Ladon said seriously. There was a flicker of something in Sheppard's expression which set off warning bells in Rodney's head—again. Ronon must have sensed it too, because he took a step forward, his elbow nudging the Colonel slightly. From his own vantage point, Rodney could see Sheppard's fists flexing around the grip of his gun.

"I don't mean to imply you're not doing everything you can," Ladon continued, this time directing his attention to Teyla. "But if there is a way we can help, I would like to."

"Why?" Rodney asked. "What possible interest would the Genii have in helping us find Elizabeth?"

"It may not seem like it at times, Doctor McKay, but I owe a great deal to Doctor Weir and Atlantis. Certainly enough to help try and find her."

"For what purpose, Ladon?" Sheppard asked, finally looking cowed. "What do the Genii hope to get out of it?"

"Does everything the Genii do have to have a double agenda?"

Rodney made a face. "Uh, yes?"

For the first time, Ladon's expression grew frustrated. "I thought I demonstrated to Doctor Weir during the time of Colonel Sheppard's capture how much the Genii are willing to cooperate with Atlantis. If you won't believe that, fine. But I know that _she_ would."

"You don't know anything about Elizabeth and don't pretend you do," John replied, leaning forward. Ronon shifted a little but didn't impede him.

Ladon studied him for a moment, his shoulders slumping, then spoke, this time in a softer tone. "Look, all I'm saying is that you have the Genii's full cooperation. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to help you find Doctor Weir. For her, it's the _least_ I can do, considering what she's helped me gain—and keep. I will see what I can find out about the Immarian homeworld as soon as I can and if I discover anything, I promise, I will let you know. No double agenda—just trying to get Doctor Weir home safe and sound."

"Thank you Ladon," Teyla responded, when no one else moved. "I believe we should go. Colonel?"

He glanced over towards her; his expression had faded back into that dull, flat look he'd been wearing since they left Atlantis. The group parted to allow him to pass, Teyla throwing Ladon a small smile. Even Ronon acknowledged him with a nod of his head.

As Rodney passed by, Ladon stopped him. "We will find her. I want her back safe and sound just as much as you do, Doctor McKay."

Rodney wasn't sure quite how to respond. "Uh, thanks. And sorry…about the…" he gestured to the desk and Ladon's throat.

"I've seen enough of Colonel Sheppard's attachment to his people to understand how he must be feeling," Ladon returned. "I just hope you find her, Doctor McKay. Soon."

"Me too," Rodney returned, and for once, he gave Radim a very sincere smile.

--/--

Elizabeth watched in surprised, nursing her bruised cheek and pounding head, as the elderly woman approached the bench of the judges. Despite what she'd seen—and assumed—about the Immarian culture, in particular their treatment of women, this woman seemed to be above the rules.

It was almost extraordinary.

"Tell me, again, what it is exactly you have accused this leader of, Thorvir," said the woman pleasantly.

Again, Thorvir shifted in apparent discomfort. "She has violated the laws of the Alterans."

"Which laws?"

"The laws governing the general practices of Alteran rule. She has assumed a position of leadership in an Alteran city, and yet does not follow the code mandated by the Elders in her government of it."

"And where is it written that she is required to do so?"

Silence met these words, as Thorvir sat back, frowning. A few of the other judges murmured among themselves, but no one seemed to be able to answer the woman's question. She turned back to Elizabeth with a reassuring smile; for the first time in a long time, Elizabeth felt a bloom of hope.

"She leads an Alteran city."

"So she does," the woman said, breaking away from Elizabeth and turning to face the judges. "But there is no rule written that states anyone leading Atlantis must strictly adhere to Alteran rules. You are presuming this, based on our laws. But nowhere in our laws does it state this. As you know, presumption is not good enough when it comes to the workings of the Testament."

"The rules of the Testament are very strict when it comes to what we expect of leadership in our settlements," spoke a man seated next to Thorvir. "It has clearly laid out all that we need to know of governance."

"Yes. It is specific as to our settlements, but not precise. As I'm sure you are all aware, there is only one place within the Testament mentioning the leadership of the city of _Atlantis._"

"Watch your tongue," Thorvir muttered sharply, as the crowd began to murmur. Apparently that part of the law was not known to everyone. "You go too far!"

"It has been quite a long time since I have," the Healer returned. "Yet I believe as firmly, and with as much conviction, as you do in Immarian law. I do not, however, believe in misusing it without proper proof."

"We have not misused it!" Karon hissed. The older woman glanced over at him, her face softening.

"You misunderstand it then, which is equally as distressing. Our Testament was established to create a better world for those of us who believed in it, not a superior one. Immaria was not to be a great culture capable of domination. It was to be a place of protection and refuge, where life was simple, pure and good. This," she motioned towards Elizabeth's face, "is not what Immaria should ever have been about."

The dark expression the young man wore began to fade, as the murmurs of the crowd rose. Elizabeth glanced around, the tight band across her chest beginning to loosen.

"This is true," said a soft voice from the back of the courtroom. Elizabeth turned, watching wide-eyed as Sita stepped down the aisle. Many of the crowd moved aside as she came forward, treating her with an obvious respect.

"I believe in Immarian goodness as much as you, Healer," Sita continued, as the elderly woman watched her somewhat suspiciously. "But the laws of our Testament are to protect us and others like us from the dangerous posed by the enemies of the Alterans."

"Do you consider me an enemy, Sita?" Elizabeth asked, drawing a few looks from the crowd.

"You are an extremely kind woman, Doctor Weir," Sita returned. "Though you have not treated us like equals, or considered us equals, you have still been fair to us. That does not mean you do not pose a danger to our people."

"What are you referring to, Warrior?" Thorvir asked curiously.

"It is perhaps not my place to speak of such matters, but while we were on Atlantis, we discovered a startling revelation about one of our sister peoples, those on the planet Asuras."

The Healer's expression twisted into a confused frown. Elizabeth sat back in her chair worriedly. Where could Sita be headed with mention of the replicators?

"While on Atlantis, it was revealed to us that the Asuran people were something of a danger, perhaps, to the rest of the Alteran worlds. That they had been purposefully established this way. Of course we were hesitant to believe it, but…"

Thorvir frowned, and turned to the rest of the justices at the bench. They looked thoughtful, but not startled by the information from Sita. The rest of the crowd seemed to wait in silence for more on this strange news.

"Continue," he said finally.

"Well, the dangers posed by the Asurans—Doctor Weir has been, in simple terms, in contact with it."

The Healer immediately took a step back from Elizabeth's table, a move not missed by the rest of the Immarians. Chattering rose amongst the people, which Thorvir had to silence with a slap to the bench in front of him.

"Is there truth in what she says?" he questioned harshly. "Have you been touched by the Asurans?"

Elizabeth glanced across the panel of justices, a panicked fluttering in her chest. The old woman seemed to have nothing to say. "I was, once. But whatever 'touched' me poses no danger now."

"How can you know this?"

"Because it's been confirmed by my people. My…Healer monitored me and assured me that the dangers posed by the replicators—the Asurans—were no longer a threat, to me or to my people.

"Had they been," she continued, "I would not have been allowed to continue my leadership of Atlantis."

"That would have been the wiser decision on the part of your people."

She frowned. "My being 'touched' by the Asurans has no bearing on my ability to lead Atlantis. That is what you've brought me here to try me for, isn't it? Not my capture at the hands of the replicators. What possible bearing could this information have on your original charges?"

"Every decision you make holds relevance with regard to your ability to lead—and whether your people are worthy of control of the city. If they unwisely allowed you to remain in a leadership position while your judgment was compromised…if you have misled your people or others who look to Atlantis for guidance—then those decisions, too, are significant as far as the legitimacy of your control of Atlantis."

"Misled _my _people?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "As far as your people were concerned, the Asurans were a sister race who were just like them. Sita would not have known that my being involved with them would have been a danger at all had it not been for our information about them. So you're willing to take our word on that, but not accept our position?"

Thorvir shifted uncomfortably, watched her for a moment, then raised a hand. "Please clear the Hall."

The crowd murmured in disapproval at this as the warriors began to herd them towards the exit. Obviously they didn't like the order, but no one seemed particularly keen to challenge the request.

It was a hallmark of this society, the inability to change things, or challenge them.

The Healer had not moved from her position, though her expression was blank now, rather than pleasantly stoic as it had been before. Elizabeth studied her for a moment as the room cleared, trying to picture where someone like her might have risen in precedence among a society as strict in governance as Immaria. The only thing that stood out was her position as healer, and given the Immarian's respectful way of treating Carson, they seemed to hold a highly regarded position here.

But was it enough to talk down to the High Justice and his council? And as a female?

The doors behind them banged shut and Elizabeth was startled out of her thoughts, turning back to Thorvir, who had retaken his seat. The only remaining members outside of the panel were Karon, the Healer, Sita, and Elizabeth's guards, who were standing nearby.

"As you so _enthusiastically_ mention, Doctor Weir, the Asurans have been considered 'brethren' to our people. However, we are not unaware of their special nature as developed by the Alterans."

Elizabeth studied him. "You mean that certain people within your culture are aware. Because as seems obvious," she motioned towards Sita and the guards, who wore troubled expressions, "not _everyone_ here was aware."

"Your people consider you a leader. I know that you will understand the need to prevent certain pieces of information from being known by those in your following. You do not disclose everything to your people if you can protect them."

"Yes," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "But if we're going to get into comparing your leadership style to mine, we're entering territory dangerous to your argument in general."

Sita held out a swift hand as one of the guards grabbed Elizabeth's shoulder. "No." The guard grunted, but relented. Elizabeth turned to thank her, but the young woman avoided her gaze.

"As with everything else in Immaria, the disclosure of such information, and how it was to be handled, was written by the Alterans as a code of law. It is not that we elect to keep our people ignorant, Doctor Weir; it is that we are instructed. The only factor we decide upon is what kind of information may be pertinent to the law. The creation of a potentially dangerous race, it was decided, was something the majority of Immarians did not need to know, though, like everything else created by the Alterans, they were to be recognized and respected as children of our ancestors.

"That does not mean we do not recognize the danger they may pose should we come upon them in modern times," he continued. "And your entire judgment, your reasoning, may have been affected by your time with them." He turned to the Healer. "While you may be able to create a flimsy argument on whether our laws extend to Atlantis, even you cannot disagree that the Testament clearly states that anyone who willfully poses a danger to Immarian or Alteran society is a threat and should be judged as such."

"Have you nothing to say?" asked Karon, the self-serving expression returning to his face.

The woman turned back to Elizabeth, and she felt her heart sink. Her expression was one of pity and concern, no longer reassurance. "There is nothing more to say."

"You may take her," Thorvir ordered. The guards grasped her by the arms, hauling her to her feet. "I think we've heard enough. If there are no further objections," he focused for a moment on the Healer, "We pass judgment at daybreak."


	12. Concern

Ronon rolled his shoulders, casting a cursory glance around the Atlantis gateroom as the remainder of his team made their way through the gate. Teyla stepped out with something of a sigh and he turned back to her as she cleared the threshold.

Sheppard was well ahead of them, heading towards the locker rooms to presumably shed his gear. Avoiding a debriefing, Ronon guessed, which, based on the look Colonel Caldwell was throwing him from the control room above, seemed to be mandatory.

"This is not good," McKay huffed. Even he'd managed to hold his tongue during the trek back through the Genii underground. Probably didn't want to set off Sheppard, which at this moment was a wise decision.

"Well, I guess it's back to the labs with Zelenka," the scientist muttered, turning towards the locker rooms. Ronon seized his TAC vest, stopping him mid-stride.

"What the…" McKay raised an eyebrow at the expression on Ronon's face. "Did I miss something?"

"Someone's got to talk to Caldwell," Ronon returned.

"And why do I have to do it?"

"Because you are the only official Earth Expedition member on this team, Rodney, other than Colonel Sheppard," Teyla said.

"Then let _him_ do it. He should be doing it anyway."

"You gonna be the one to tell him that?" Ronon asked.

McKay made a face, thinking over the choices. "Fine. But Sheppard owes me for this one."

"We shall be sure to let him know."

Ronon released him, and he adjusted his weapon, moving towards the stairs. Teyla watched him go, a worried expression on her face. "I believe I understand now what you were referring to earlier."

"What?"

"About the Colonel's carelessness. The situation today…" she frowned, her eyes still on Rodney as he and Caldwell made their way into Weir's office. "I have not seen Colonel Sheppard quite so…"

"Desperate?"

"I was going to say dangerous." Her expression was serious. "The Colonel has run risks before, but his actions today not only jeopardized many lives, but the stability of Atlantis. Doctor Weir would not wish us to take such risks, even in defense of her life."

"No. She wouldn't." He crossed his arms, looking down at her. "Someone should remind him of that."

Teyla glanced up at him, catching his meaning. "I do not know if now is the best time."

"Better time than never. Weir can't afford to lose him right now."

She gazed back down the hall towards the lockers. "It would seem none of us can."

--/--

Rodney tapped his fingers across the P-90 in his lap, staring hatefully at the tablet Caldwell was tapping on. If it wasn't for the fact that Sheppard might quite possibly shoot Caldwell if he saw him right now, he'd be completely up for lecturing them both about the ineffectiveness of tying up a civilian chief scientist's time during life-or-death situations in order to solicit mundane mission reports.

"So Ladon Radim offered his help?"

"As much help as the Genii would be willing to give, but, yes." Rodney had skipped over the desk-throwing-chokehold-part, for which he felt Sheppard owed him—big time.

"With as extensive a spy network as they have, that's good news, right, Doctor?"

"I suppose so. If they can be trusted."

"And what do you think? Can they be trusted?"

Rodney stared at Caldwell for a moment. The Colonel seemed to be honestly asking his opinion. "I…guess? Radim did always seem to have a thing for Elizabeth—she treated him with respect. Which was more than he deserved if you ask me."

Caldwell leaned back in his chair. "It's still the best we've got."

Rodney made a face. "Hm."

"And how did Colonel Sheppard handle the exchange?"

"Who said anything about him handling anybody?"

Caldwell fixed him with a look. Rodney cleared his throat. "Oh. He handled it fine, I guess. I suppose."

"No problems?"

"Nothing but the usual with the Genii," Rodney sputtered in response. "You know, gun threats, shady underground training camps, that sort of thing."

"No…incidents to report?" Caldwell still wore a look of disbelief. Or displeasure. Rodney frowned. Maybe Sheppard didn't owe him one. "There might have been a little…disagreement…between us and the Genii at first."

"I don't consider engaging the leader of a powerful potentially dangerous race in a wrestling match to be simply a 'disagreement'." Caldwell narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Radim was kind enough to radio Atlantis as you made your way back to ensure his support and promise that the confrontation between Colonel Sheppard and himself would not affect the Genii's dedication to finding Doctor Weir's kidnappers. So, what was it you were saying about his 'handling' of the situation?"

Rodney made a face. See if he thanked Radim the next time. "Things might have gotten a little out of hand. Maybe. But Sheppard…Sheppard knows what he's doing."

"I'm well aware of Colonel Sheppard's capabilities," Caldwell said, rolling forward and folding his hands on the desk. "But my concern is that his current way of handling things may not be what's in the best interest of everyone else."

"Look, I'll admit he can get a little gung-ho at times about his…people. To be honest, he's actually shown a great deal of restraint so far. Except for that bit with Lorne at the beginning, but considering what happened, that's not…" Rodney glanced up, noting Caldwell's raised eyebrow. "…ah…anyways, he's been pretty non-Sheppard for the most part."

"I'm not saying Sheppard's methods—whether he's employing them or not—aren't about anything but doing what's best for the people he cares about. But sometimes that's not enough when it comes to saving lives."

"Not enough? He's doing everything he can to find Elizabeth. Even if he gets a little unorthodox in his ways, how is that not about saving her life?"

"Because," Caldwell returned, "Doctor Weir's life isn't the only one in consideration here."

Rodney blinked at him a few times, a sudden, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything…"

"Okay, then, blatantly coming out and saying—that Elizabeth's life may not be worth as much as someone else's? Or that it will be forfeit at some point? That at some point we're just supposed to stop trying?"

"That's not what I'm implying _or_ saying," Caldwell leaned back again, fixing Rodney with a dark stare. "But there is a line between being diligent and being overzealous. If Colonel Sheppard's actions endanger you, his team, or Atlantis, then that is something that needs to be discussed."

"Look…all I know is that if anyone is going to find Elizabeth, it's going to be him. However he goes about doing it doesn't really matter to me as long as we find her."

"I can see that." Caldwell returned. "Just be aware that being loyal doesn't mean you should put your life—or the life of anyone else—in jeopardy. I don't want that, and I'm sure Doctor Weir wouldn't, either."

"Well, maybe you don't know Elizabeth as well as you think," Rodney retorted, though there was no bite in it, and Caldwell knew it. Because truthfully, as much as Rodney hated to admit it—and as Sheppard, of all people, had emphasized before—Caldwell was perfectly correct.

--\--

Doctor Kate Heightmeyer enjoyed the views from her windows on the far side of the Tower. There was a sense of peacefulness, particularly at sundown, being able to overlook both the water and massive expanse of the city beneath her.

It seemed a little less peaceful, of course, with Elizabeth gone. She'd not seen much of a change in the majority of the Expedition—everyone learned to deal with tragedy and danger in different ways, and for some this was, she was sorry to consider, just another bump in the road of the life of Atlantis. But she did worry about a few of those closest to the expedition head. A small part of her had wanted to warn Elizabeth a little while ago not to let the line between leader and friend blur; but many people on Atlantis needed the comfort of friendship, and it seemed a silly concern, at the time.

Now, her disappearance was taking a toll on people the majority of the expedition looked to for support and reassurance. And that was dangerous for the mental stability of the expedition as a whole.

The doors to her office slid open; she set down her cup of tea and rose as a familiar figure entered.

"Teyla," she remarked with a smile.

"Hello, Kate," the Athosian returned softly. "Do you have a moment to spare?"

"Of course." As Teyla settled into one of the soft chairs, Kate leaned forward and smiled. "How are you doing?"

Teyla smiled uncomfortably. "Quite well, I believe, considering the circumstances."

Kate nodded. "And the other members of your team? How are they doing? I know they were all close to Doctor Weir."

Teyla gave her an appraising look, which Kate did not acknowledge. She'd always been able to read people quickly. It was a necessary talent in her field, but one she'd learned easily and well. A gift, Elizabeth had once told her, which had been the deciding factor in her selection as Expedition psychologist. And Teyla was not terribly difficult to read.

"They are handling it. Each one is different, but I am concerned in particular for…"

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Again Teyla looked up in surprise, but Kate simply offered a small smile. "It seems he has been concerning Colonel Caldwell as well."

Teyla frowned, looking a little lost, as she often did when broaching difficult personal subjects. "He has been…troubled…"

"Colonel Caldwell has already informed me of the incident with the Genii," Kate remarked, reaching for some paperwork she'd been studying earlier.

"Yes. It is not surprising, perhaps, but his behavior today was very extreme. We are concerned that he will place himself in danger."

"We?"

"Ronon has also expressed…concern."

Kate folded her hands, considering. If Ronon was worried, the situation was probably more alarming than she had first believed. John Sheppard had demonstrated recklessness of behavior before—a few times, particularly where friends were concerned—but if his current attitude was one that troubled Ronon, of all people, it warranted due consideration.

Teyla frowned. "It is not unusual for Colonel Sheppard to feel quite strongly about the people he considers family."

Kate smiled softly, though she was a little worried by Teyla's insinuation. "He does tend to act aggressively when it comes to members of the expedition."

"Yes. He would do anything to protect people he cares about."

"But this time was different?"

"This time…" Teyla paused, looking pained to even be speaking about it. "This time he was quite reckless in his choice to attack Ladon. Especially as it seemed Ladon was offering nothing but his assistance."

"And he did nothing to provoke the Colonel in any way that you could see?"

"No."

"Teyla, if you feel Colonel Sheppard poses a danger to himself or other members of his team…" Kate took a breath. "It will be my duty to suggest a full psychological evaluation to Colonel Caldwell."

"I do not believe it has gone that far," the Athosian returned, a bit sharply. Colonel Sheppard was not the only one on Atlantis protective of his team members. "He has generally maintained control of his emotions quite well."

Kate smiled gently. "Of course."

Teyla's expression softened. "I believe if someone were to speak with him…perhaps give him a reason to think about his actions..."

"Well, it's true that sometimes, when people feel lost, they need someone they trust to remind them of what their responsibilities are. Have you tried speaking with the Colonel?"

Teyla sighed and smiled. "I mentioned restraint to him earlier. But this time I believe I am too close to the situation to have any effect. And I am not certain I can say what is needed. Everything that he is feeling at this moment I also feel. I do not blame him for his actions. I thought…perhaps you might speak with him."

"Without Colonel Sheppard approaching me, I am afraid it may not be appropriate for me to seek him out."

"Was that not what you did when Colonel Sheppard asked you to speak to me regarding my Wraith dreams?"

"Yes," Kate said, "but at that time it was your superior officer asking about a member of his team. And Doctor Weir believed it was warranted and gave her full approval."

"I believe," Teyla returned softly, "that Elizabeth would approve of this action as well."

There was a slightly hollow feeling in Kate's chest, as she remembered the calm, concerned approach Elizabeth often took with various members of her crew. Teyla was correct in one regard, that Elizabeth would want whatever was best for her expedition members.

And of all the expedition members Elizabeth would want at his best, John Sheppard topped the list. If there was any hope of recovering her, Colonel Sheppard was it.

"Well, perhaps it might be worth considering," Kate said slowly. "For everyone's sake."

--/--

Elizabeth watched the light dance across the opening of the tent, miniature dust swirls blowing back and forth between the barely visible crack. There was a cold that seeped through the thick canvas, snaking across the dirt floor and into every corner of the small space.

She shuddered, pulling her limbs inward, as she imagined what life would be like without the thick canvas covering and the small fire the barely kept the bitter temperature at bay.

She would be condemned to that tomorrow, she was certain. Exile on this bitterly cold world. A perfect punishment for a society that held little respect for certain kinds of life, but that prided itself on being advanced. Here the condemned were not executed by executioners, but by their own inability to survive, even if the hope for survival was minimal at best.

Could Ronon survive this? Could Teyla? They have lived through so many unimaginable horrors, she was certain they would at least have a fighting chance.

Rodney? His ingeniousness in certain areas would give him some opportunities. And his refusal to die easily.

John?

John had once told her, when he was trapped in the sanctuary, that the only thing that kept him sane was the thought that she and the others wouldn't give up on him. That they were looking for him, he was certain. He'd felt that same way when he'd been taken prisoner by Cowen, and again with Kolya, though death seemed imminent both times. In the back of his mind, there was that small, inextinguishable notion that his people were looking for him. That someday, they would find him.

Could she be as strong?

The wind whipped up, sending a sharp, bitter jolt through the tent and fanning the flames of the fire so severely they almost flickered out. She pulled herself from fetal position, edging over to try and block the wind. It bit at the skin barely exposed beneath her shirt, chilling her to the bone. The fire sputtered for a moment, then rose, warming her front side and her face. But her back still felt the bite of the frost.

Tomorrow, she'd have no fire.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the fear she'd felt when John was missing, how she refused to give up hope or believe him gone even when everything seemed hopeless. He was feeling that now, as she was enduring the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness here.

She hadn't given up on him then, and he hadn't given up on her.

She wouldn't give up on him now. On any of them. She couldn't.

She was afraid of what would happen if she did.

--/--

The Atlantis gym was something of a makeshift sparring room; small, lined with mats and barely packed with any real exercise equipment. As the expedition hadn't been allowed to pack treadmills the first go around, they had learned to adapt. SGC didn't rate exercise equipment high on the list of Atlantis priorities anyway, so even when contact had been re-established with Earth the gym had maintained its Spartan look and feel.

And also its Spartan uses.

Kate preferred some of the more meditative activities generally led by Teyla, but today she'd ventured into gym during the afternoon for a specific purpose.

She wasn't disappointed. Colonel Sheppard was sitting listlessly next to a makeshift punching dummy, his hands wrapped, looking slightly sweaty and more than a little weary.

He glanced up as she came in, rising to his feet in seeming politeness. "Doctor Heightmeyer."

"Colonel."

"Teyla isn't here," he said, tapping the dummy lightly. "I think she's in her quarters."

"Yes, I know," she returned. "I've already had a conversation with Teyla today."

Sheppard glanced back over at her, recognition dawning on his tired face. No one in the expedition was a fool, John Sheppard least of all. He smirked for a moment, tearing at the wrappings on his hands. "So she feels like I need 'the talk.'"

"The Talk?"

"The psych talk." He raised an eyebrow at Kate, his eyes sharp and burning with intensity. "You know, on why I shouldn't go around throwing perfectly innocent Genii leaders across tables, that sort of thing." He brushed past her, shoving the boxing equipment into a corner.

"She did express some concern," Kate said, following him as he picked up various articles around the mat. "She's worried about you, Colonel. And she's not the only one."

Sheppard stopped, looking up from a half-bent position. "Caldwell?"

"Among others."

He cast her a questioning look, but when she said no more he continued picking up scattered equipment. "Look, what happened with Radim—that may have gotten a little out of hand, but I'm fine. It won't happen again, and you can tell Colonel Caldwell—and Teyla—that."

"Have you considered telling them yourself?"

This time he flashed her a false smile. "I don't know if that's the best idea. Teyla's one thing, but Colonel Caldwell and I don't always see eye to eye. Elizabeth…" his eyes took on a pained look as he struggled to complete his thought. "…Elizabeth always ran interference between us. I don't think going up to him now and promising that I'll only lose it 'every once in a while' is going to help."

Kate smiled back. "Maybe not, but perhaps if he heard that your actions were motivated by your concern for Doctor Weir's well-being he would understand."

John made a face. "Caldwell's by the book. In the military there's no 'motivation', just rules that you're not supposed to break, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do. But this is a different situation than most we find ourselves in here on Atlantis. Everybody wants to find Doctor Weir—"

"Look, Doc, no offense, but this really isn't helping."

"I know you feel frustration. I would be concerned if you didn't. But I am also concerned about the other members of this Expedition and what they may be feeling. There are many people who are uncertain of where to turn right now. And a great many of them will look to you, as Elizabeth's second in command, for guidance."

He turned back to her, eyes wide.

"Elizabeth placed her faith in you, both as a military commander and a friend. I know that can be a difficult burden to bear at times, but I don't believe she made a mistake. And I don't believe you've disappointed her so far."

John didn't respond, just drew his lips together for a moment, and dropped his gaze.

Kate sighed, clasping her hands. "No one is asking you to stop looking or to be less determined in how you go about it. I don't believe anyone here would ask that of you. But I do believe that you will have to careful in the decisions you make. I know you're trying, but with Elizabeth gone, it may be more important now to respect what she would want as far as the Expedition itself is concerned. Just bear that in mind. Until you find her that may be the best thing you can do for her—for both of you."

He was still kneeling next to the equipment on the floor when she left him a few moments later.


	13. Best

Stephen Caldwell was having a difficult time of things.

Not in managing the city; Elizabeth Weir kept extremely detailed notes of everything going on around the base, as well as Atlantis's dealings with the galaxy, so there was no trouble there.

But he had no idea how she commanded such a tight, smooth ship in light of the bevy of personalities that occupied the city.

Stephen wasn't a fool; he was more than well aware of how difficult people could be. He dealt with a rather varied crew daily on the _Daedalus_; plus, he had to manage Hermiod and his surprisingly picky ways. It was a balance that ran a very fine line.

But that balance was achieved through the devotion each of the _Daedalus_ members had to the one thing that bound them together—their military lineage. With the exception of Hermiod, each and every person on board ship believed in and followed the hierarchy of the military. When times got tough, as they often did in this strange galaxy, Stephen knew that every member of his ship would be willing to follow orders to the letter and sacrifice whatever they had, even their lives, in the name of their planet, their ship and their cause.

With Atlantis, it was obvious the people felt the same way about their fellow expedition members and their city. But they did not have the same linear thinking as Stephen's military crew.

He'd already had to deal with McKay twice today, for example. The man was a genius at solving problems and nearly indispensible to the mission—a fact he was well aware of, unfortunately. While he did follow orders when asked, he did so with such disdain it was still surprising Weir hadn't chucked him out of the program two years ago.

Then there was Sheppard and his uneven attitude. Though there was obvious reason for that—Elizabeth's disappearance had worn down even the most stalwart of her marines—Sheppard had always been a bit of a loose cannon in the Air Force's book, and this situation did little to disprove it.

The SGC had long ago advised Weir to carefully consider her choice of a military commander, and she'd turned her nose up at them, opting instead to put her faith in a helicopter pilot with a suspect record. That had never sat well with him—not personally, for the Air Force had rewarded him well for his years of service—but professionally. At the time it had seemed like a juvenile, rookie attitude to take when the lives of two hundred people were at stake.

But then, maybe she'd been right. Sheppard had proven his worth during the Siege of Atlantis and beyond. Materialistically, he lacked a few things—a good command of power and a sense of organization, for starters—but he knew his people and he knew this galaxy, and even Stephen would have to admit that he'd done a good job.

The unflagging loyalty of the rest of the base, including the seasoned marines who were shipped here from time to time, was also surprising. He didn't know what Elizabeth and Sheppard had done, but it was quite clear from the attitudes of their people that they were fiercely devoted to their leadership.

There was still a part of him, however, which found it difficult to accept Sheppard, and incidents like today's fight with Radim seemed to confirm that he was as unstable as the Air Force had initially suspected. Maybe Elizabeth was able to keep him in line, but without her here, now, he seemed one step short of a complete meltdown.

"Colonel?"

He turned as Chuck, the technician who manned the gate, stepped up to the archway of Elizabeth's office.

"We have a message incoming from SGC."

Stephen rose, following the young man to the control room, where the Stargate hummed below them. After a few moments, Walter, the SGC technician, greeted them.

"Go ahead SGC, we read you."

"Hello Colonel." General Landry replied, his image appearing on the raised monitors above. "How are things in the Pegasus?"

"A little disorganized, General. But I'm sure that's no surprise to you."

Landry offered up a small smile. "Any luck in the search?"

"I'm afraid not. The Immarians have us stonewalled. Doctor McKay hasn't been able to make anything of the gate addresses we've recovered from M1M-136 and some of the contacts we've made with locals suggest this race is one that keeps their true identities pretty well concealed."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"You're not the only one." He turned as Sheppard and McKay made their way into the control room. "However, it's possible we may turn up a few leads in the next couple of days."

"Yes, well, unfortunately, the IOA isn't as optimistic as you are, Stephen."

"Sir?"

"They've arranged an emergency meeting at 1700 today. Seems they're a little concerned about what might happen when reports of Elizabeth's disappearance start rolling around the galaxy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheppard asked, staring at the monitors with an unusual level of intensity.

"The IOA is worried that once word gets out, certain…entities…will feel it is within their power to test the strength of Atlantis again."

"You mean the replicators," McKay muttered.

"Or the Wraith. We know some of them are aware of Atlantis's existence. It may only be a matter of time before they begin to rally themselves and test the strength of our defenses again."

"If the Wraith wanted to attack Atlantis they could do it whether or not Elizabeth was here," Sheppard retorted. "And the Replicators have shown no interest in Atlantis since their last attack. So what exactly is this really about?"

The General smiled uncomfortably. "Let's just say the IOA is being extremely cautious."

"Extremely controlling, you mean," McKay returned. "Isn't it obvious?" He turned to glance at Sheppard, who looked vaguely confused. "The IOA has questioned Elizabeth's command here before. Now, they've magically been presented with the perfect opportunity to replace her and they're jumping at the chance."

Landry frowned. "The IOA may cause Doctor Weir headaches from time to time but as far as I know they have supported her and fully support her one-hundred percent."

"Then why exactly are they doing this? There's no reason for them to move so fast. They could give us a week. Two weeks! Time to find her. It's only been three days!"

"And that is, I think, the problem. It's been three whole days. Three days with no word, no ransom requests—no contact. I don't think I have to go into what the IOA believes that might mean. Doctor Weir has the support of the President, the SGC AND the IOA and no one wants to supplant her as leader of Atlantis, Doctor McKay—_as long as she's alive_."

The implication silenced the scientist for a moment. Sheppard's confusion dissolved into an emotionless mask.

"So that's just it then," McKay finally said. "They're tossing in the towel and declaring Elizabeth as good as dead."

"He didn't say that, Rodney," Sheppard muttered after a few moments.

"Did he have to?"

"No one here has implied anything of the kind," Landry responded sharply. "But the IOA isn't going to run the risk of sitting back on their hands in case this situation doesn't turn out…favorably. We all want to find Elizabeth alive, but if we don't, the Pegasus Galaxy isn't going to grant us a few days vacation to get our act together." He turned to Stephen. "When the IOA meet this afternoon, they're going to discuss the future status of the Atlantis Expedition—including a potential replacement for Doctor Weir."

"Well, that's just…"

"Enough, Doctor," Stephen interrupted quietly. He returned his attention to Landry, who waited patiently in front of his camera. "I presume the IOA is considering resuming civilian control of the base?"

"That was my understanding, Stephen."

"How long is it going to take them to choose the replacement?"

"That's a bureaucratic call. But I would guess it will be sooner rather than later. As soon as we find out I'll let you know. But I wanted to give you all the heads up before you received 'official' word from them."

"Thank you, General. We'll have everything in working order when they contact us. Atlantis, out." Stephen turned to find McKay wearing a dark expression and Sheppard, hands on hips, his face still eerily blank.

"I knew this was a bad idea," the scientist snapped suddenly. "We should never have dialed Earth."

"And what would you have suggested, Rodney?" Sheppard retorted. "Pretending Elizabeth was around the next time they dialed in?"

"Possibly!"

"Telling them she stepped out for a minute and to leave a message wouldn't exactly fly with the SGC." Sheppard fixed him with a flat stare. "Look, they're just doing what they think is best for Atlantis. Diplomacy is their thing; let them handle it for now."

"What? What they think is _best_? They're talking about replacing Elizabeth—permanently!"

"It hasn't come to that yet."

McKay made a face. "What is it with you? One minute you're chastising me for being too pessimistic, the next you're throwing the Genii across desks because you suspect they might know something, now you're folding and letting the IOA walk all over you?"

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it's that simple! Do you want them here or not?"

"No, I don't want them here! But it's not about what I want, Rodney! Or what you want! It's about what's best for the Expedition."

McKay stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed. Caldwell looked confusedly between the two men, not quite certain he'd heard Sheppard right.

"So that's just it? We let the IOA come in and…nothing? We sacrifice Elizabeth because that's what's best for Atlantis?"

"We're not sacrificing Elizabeth!"

"The MINUTE the IOA representative gets here, whoever they choose, the last thing they're going to do is sanction a three-days-later Search and Rescue operation! You let them in here, you might as well declare Elizabeth's life forfeit, just like he did!" Rodney flicked a hand towards Stephen, who frowned.

"I don't recall saying anything of the kind, Doctor McKay."

"Well, you might as well have, with all the dragging of feet you've been doing," McKay retorted, then turned back to the Lieutenant Colonel. "You're supposed to be the one with all the crazy ideas around here! Why aren't you _doing_ something?"

"What, now you _want_ me to put you in danger?"

McKay stared for a moment. "Well, no! Look, all I'm saying is that siding with the IOA isn't going to help us find Elizabeth in any way. You may think you're doing Elizabeth some favors by doing the diplomatic thing and pretending to be her, but you're not!"

Sheppard's eyes widened for a moment and he took a breath, his face twisting into a dark expression. "Don't _you_ lecture _me_ about how to do my job, _McKay_. We've been over this before! As far as I'm concerned, the IOA can talk itself in circles, here or on Earth, for however the hell long they want. What matters at the moment is finding Elizabeth and protecting Atlantis. They're going to call the shots whether we like it or not, and I'm not going to waste time I could be using to look for her fighting with them. Elizabeth wouldn't want that."

"Colonel Sheppard is right," Stephen said.

McKay turned, looking at him with a surprised expression. "He…What?"

Stephen nodded at the Lieutenant Colonel. "Right now, we have the authority to engage in whatever measures are necessary to forward the operation. Until the IOA steps in and stops us, this remains a military search and rescue. Let's not waste the time we have arguing about what will happen once that changes. I don't think Doctor Weir would."

"You…agree…with him?"

Stephen locked gazes with Sheppard for a minute. "I do."

"Of course he does," McKay murmured to no one in particular.

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded once. "Right. Then…what are we wasting time for? We've got at least a couple of days left."

"And what if we don't find her before then?" McKay asked.

The intensity on Sheppard's face faded a bit and he bit his lip. Stephen sighed. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

--/--

No one was present in the Hall when Elizabeth was escorted there the next morning. The pathway was conspicuously bare; even the small village had been deserted when they walked through. Whatever questions Elizabeth's appeal had raised in the minds of the Immarians—or it may have been precautionary for the nanites in her system—the leadership had deemed it 'unsafe' to be near her.

Karon and Sita, to her surprise, were also absent, as was the Healer, though whether by choice or by order was anyone's guess. In any case, Elizabeth had no support in the cold, bare void of the courtroom when Thorvir and the other judges took their seats.

"Elizabeth Weir," he called almost as soon as she reached the table, not even granting her a chance to sit, "you know the crimes with which you have been charged. This Council has levied a judgment against you. Do you wish to hear it?"

She swallowed, but her response came out evenly, thankfully. "Why wouldn't I?"

Thorvir made a face but nothing was said in response by either he or the guards. Instead, the justice at the end rose, his voice tainted with age.

"Doctor Weir, by order of the Council of Judges on the authority of the Elders of Immaria—and in accordance with the laws established by our Testament—you are sentenced to death by bludgeoning beyond the borders of the Rocks."

"_WHAT_?" Elizabeth struggled to keep her expression calm. "You told me it was to be exile!"

Thorvir raised an eyebrow. "That changed when it was proven that you posed a threat not only to our laws, but to our people."

Elizabeth's heart was racing, and a slow thrumming began to fill her ears. "This is unbelievable."

"This is our way."

"I hope, truly, that your ways change, Thorvir. Because while this may be what the Alterans began with, I cannot believe they would be proud of what you are."

"That is your opinion. We do what we must to keep our people safe."

Her throat felt dry. She rose, and as swiftly as she'd entered she turned down the aisle towards the door. There was a slight murmur from the bench.

"Do you have nothing more to say?"

She looked back towards them. "What more can I say? You've made your decision and as I am at your mercy, there is nothing more to be said. I just hope, for your sakes, you are fully prepared to deal with the consequences."

The judge studied her for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"My people do not give up on one of their own," she said sternly. "They will find where you have taken me, and when they do, they will discover what you have done. The result will not be in your favor."

"You spoke of equanimity and empathy, Doctor Weir. Are you now saying that, based on the punishment we've legally imposed, your people will enact revenge?"

"I suppose it depends on what you consider revenge," she returned, crossing her arms. "My people will not do as you have done, and fail to render a fair judgment against you. But I can promise you that any hope for compassion, or alliance, you might seek—any rights your people may try and claim to the city—they won't be acknowledged. You have just denied yourselves the one opportunity you may have had of learning about your Ancestors' pasts. And it will not just be my people who know this; every race in every corner of this galaxy that knows or may know of your existence will be forewarned about your intolerance, your bias, and the wrong you are about to commit. You will _never _enjoy the same privileges you now have in this galaxy ever again."

"You claim many things, Doctor," said Thorvir, his voice less stoic than before. "But we will not be threatened."

"That is not a threat, Thorvir. It is the truth."

"We shall see."

"For your sake, I hope not," she replied, and before he'd had a chance to respond, she'd turned towards the doors, her guards trailing in her wake.

_--/--_

Rodney tapped at his laptop, watching as the algorithm cross-referenced gate addresses with known locations. Like much of the other data brought back by the marines, it seemed to be leading nowhere. None of the factors that Rodney had included as part of the search seemed to correlate with any of the gate addresses.

Of course, the Immarians could have jumped ten times after landing at any one of these planets. Currently, Rodney and his team were only three jumps deep with M1M-316 as the gate of origin and they had nothing. The problem was, each hypothetical jump exponentially increased the number of potential destinations, and to collect them all required an increase in everything else—time, resources, manpower…all of which they didn't have. As the numbers increased, their hope of finding some lead or clue seemed to decrease in direct correlation. And that was not helping improve the overall attitude of his team members.

He was not accustomed to worrying about the scientists who made up his department; generally he allowed his assistants or co-heads to do that, but it was obvious, at this point, that many of them were on their last legs. Most had been up for nearly seventy-two hours, tirelessly scouring data and trying to come up with more effective tracking solutions. It was no less than what he would expect of the people he'd selected for his team, but it really stood more as a testament to what Elizabeth meant to the expedition as a whole. No one was giving up when there was still a chance she could be found.

Still, there was a limit. And even the most stalwart of those still looking would have to stop at some point, though it was obvious none of them wanted to quit.

It was an outlook he'd encountered from a number of different people, and frankly, some of them surprised him. Caldwell, for example, seemed to be throwing himself now into the search as aggressively as any of Elizabeth's loyal expedition members. After their discussion this morning, the Colonel had sanctioned a few rather questionable off-world investigations.

And that was nothing compared to the support they'd received from their allies: the Taranans, the Minerans, even the Hoffans—what was left of them—had offered aid. The Athosians, led by Halling, would have descended on Atlantis en mass had not Sheppard graciously explained that there was little they would be able to accomplish.

As for Sheppard…he remained the biggest puzzle for Rodney. He'd seen the man go to impossible lengths, including sacrificing his own life, in order to save his friends, and yet, when he should be pitching the biggest Sheppard fit over what the IOA was planning, he'd kept his mouth shut. It was baffling, really, especially since only a few hours earlier he'd nearly decapitated Ladon Radim at the mere mention of Elizabeth's kidnapping.

"It just doesn't make sense," he murmured.

"What doesn't, Rodney?" ask a weary voice across from him. Radek Zelenka looked up from his console. "Is your program not working correctly?"

"Uh…no…I mean, that's not it. It's…never mind," he returned, not feeling up to discussing a schizophrenic Sheppard. "Have you found anything?"

The Czech looked at him with tired eyes. "Nothing. None of the gate addresses brought back by the marines seem to be viable options for an Immarian homeworld."

"Well we'll just have to keep looking," Rodney muttered, ejecting the data disc and reaching for another one. The tablet read through the data and the cycle spun around again, scanning another thousand iterations.

He looked up again to find Zelenka still studying him and felt the irritation build. Despite the Czech scientist's brilliant capabilities, he had an uncanny knack for rubbing Rodney the wrong way. Or perhaps it was because of those capabilities. "What?"

"You should get some rest."

"Speak for yourself."

"I'm serious, Rodney. You look terrible."

"Oh well thanks. Not like I'm competing in Mr. Universe anytime soon."

"At this rate you're going to wear out your usefulness to anyone. And Doctor Weir would not want you to make yourself ill by overdoing things."

Rodney frowned, trying to tamp down his frustration. "What IS it with everyone wanting to do what Elizabeth would do? You are not Elizabeth. No one here isElizabeth. How can you possibly know what Elizabeth would want in a situation like this?"

Zelenka frowned, looking a touch more animated. "I would think it would be obvious."

"No, it's not obvious. It's the furthest thing from obvious. Elizabeth is a person, not a machine. She doesn't always want the same things all the time."

"You are correct. But I believe Doctor Weir thinks with her heart as well as her mind. That is not always easy to predict, but in general I believe it means she would want what is best for the people of Atlantis."

"What is best for the people of Atlantis is to find her. End of story."

"No, Rodney," Zelenka murmured. "That is what is best for _you_."

Rodney cast a swift glance at Zelenka, eyes narrowing. "That's not true."

"It is true. You are wanting to find her so badly you aren't thinking about anything else. If something happens…" he paused for a moment, his brow furrowing at Rodney's expression, "…I am only saying 'if'—but if something happens, well, that must be considered too. And Colonel Caldwell and Colonel Sheppard are only looking out for rest of the Expedition. I believe Doctor Weir would want that."

"Oh, enough with the philanthropy act! Look, I _understand_ that there are things that have to be handled without Elizabeth here. That's why Caldwell was brought here in the first place. But the rest of us? We should be using our time to figure out where she could have been taken, not wasting it hypothesizing on the various ways in which we can make Elizabeth the most proud."

"It is not about making her proud, Rodney; it is about doing what she would want us to do to make sure the Expedition may continue without her."

"And why would we even want to think that? Huh?" Rodney pounded the table with his fist, wincing at little at the sharp pain in his broken finger. "That's defeatist, that's all there is to it."

The Czech sighed. "It may be defeatist, perhaps, but it is also a possibility that must be considered. Even you must know that."

They locked gazes for a moment, Rodney feeling a familiar sense of helplessness, mixed with anger, coursing through him. Moments like these, when he could do nothing but watch, and think, and watch more, frustrated him the most. He'd seen Sheppard tortured by Kolya, Elizabeth fight for her life against replicators—even Ronon tossed like an animal into the middle of a Wraith battle—and been unable to help. For everything that annoyed him about being forced to save the day in a pressure situation, it was the moments when he could do nothing that really made him feel like he might snap.

Zelenka seemed to be preparing for his retort; he held up a hand, but was stopped from saying anything by the soft sound of an electronic beep. He cast a swift glanced at Rodney, who skittered around the desk to look over his shoulder, nearly knocking Radek over.

The scanning program had stopped, listing one planet matching the factors that they'd used to narrow the search. Zelenka glanced at him, eyes wide, and Rodney only stared back a moment before tapping his radio. "Sheppard? Come in. I think we might have found something."


	14. Hope

The guards hadn't bothered to shadow Elizabeth like before; at this point, she figured they had nothing to worry about or they were still in shock over her refusal to kowtow to Thorvir and his superficial version of authority. In either case, they granted her the freedom to stretch her legs and briskly cover the length of hall that led back towards the center of the Immarian settlement.

A grunt from one of the guards caused her to turn; she stared, wide-eyed, at the second as he also tumbled to his knees, joining his unconscious counterpart on the stone floor.

From the shadows, Sita stepped forward, the same stick she'd used on Elizabeth in her hand. "You must go."

Elizabeth eyed the guards on the floor, then glanced down the hall. The ways seemed clear. "But…"

"You do not have much time! Those serving the justices will pass through here shortly."

"Sita, there is nowhere for me to go. I've been condemned to death."

Sita shook her head. "If you can get to the Healing Rooms you can seek asylum with Neela. She can assist you in escaping."

"Neela?"

"The Healer who spoke for you in the trial. She can tell you what you need to do."

"Where are the Healing Rooms?"

"Across the circle, within the Halls of Trust." She gestured to the west, across the meadow. "But you can take this tunnel here, past the Halls of Record. Hurry!" The warrior ducked back towards the shadows but Elizabeth darted forward, grabbing her arm.

"Wait…why are you doing this? Helping me? I thought you believed in this system."

Her eyes grew wide and frightened. "I…I am sorry. I cannot…"

"Why, Sita?"

"This was not what I was told would happen," the young woman replied, twisting from Elizabeth's grip.

"What?"

"Our laws do not include execution. Exile is our harshest punishment. But the council did not want to chance your survival. They changed things. With this I do not agree. I am sorry for having condemned you to this."

"Sita…"

"There is no more time. You must make it to Neela. Go. Now!" Sita darted into the shadows, disappearing somewhere she couldn't see within the dim hallways.

"Wait! How can I avoid…" The young woman's footsteps had already faded. Elizabeth took a panicked breath, then headed towards the dark tunnel in front of her, which seemed to head north.

She was barely within the tunnels when a shout echoed from behind her. The guards had been found. She steeled herself, then put as much energy as she could into her weakened legs, head still pounding, and drove forward into the darkness, praying she could find the strength to make it to the one named Neela.

--/--

"You're sure about this?" John looked much more alive and aware than he had for some time. Teyla observed him worriedly.

"It matches all the factors," returned Rodney. "It was on the list of dialed planets, it has an atmosphere and temperature that would suit their…wardrobe, for lack of a better word—and has no record of industrialized society. But it does have a record of a former Ancient civilization that could be the basis for their understanding and knowledge of the 'Alterans', as they call them."

"Seems questionable to me," Ronon said. "With those factors half of this galaxy could be a fit."

"Well half of this galaxy was not in the direct path that could have been travelled by the Immarians," Rodney returned snidely. "Look, as far as leads it's the best we've had in two days."

"But would it not be better to send a scouting party to this address first, to make certain this planet is the home of the Immarians?" Teyla asked, looking at John. "Is this not what you would call…overkill?"

Twelve of the Colonel's toughest marines were gathered around the gate, cinching together the final elements of their gear. John glanced at her with a determined expression, one she had seen him use but rarely, when he felt very desperate.

"Let's just say we're being overly cautious." He stepped away from her, not allowing her to ask additional questions. "Okay, people, our job once we're on this planet is to ascertain whether or not Doctor Weir may have been brought there. We're not aiming to scare the locals or set ourselves up for a fight. Ask around, gather your intel, and report as soon as you learn anything. Any mention of the Immarians, you contact me directly, no hesitating." He turned back to Teyla, appearing to check if she was appeased, though he gave her no time to answer. "Dial the gate."

Colonel Caldwell moved into the small inner balcony Elizabeth had so often occupied when she saw them off. He raised no acknowledging hand, but his face appeared tired and lined with worry. Teyla did not believe he was invested in Atlantis so much as to feel their sorrow at Elizabeth's predicament, yet he appeared to desire her recovery as much as anyone else.

She offered him a small smile as the marines filed past her, following John into the event horizon. Ronon also glanced up, looking conciliatory, then nudged her to follow him. The last thing she remembered before stepping through the event horizon was the control room staff, standing forlornly behind the Colonel, wearing identical expressions of desperate hope.

--/--

Something was coming up ahead. She could see the light in the distance, glowing a dim blue, and growing stronger as she struggled towards it. Her boots clapped across the tiled floors, making a thick, echoing sound that was sure to direct the Immarians to her presence. It didn't matter much. At that moment, all she wanted to do was keep moving forward, and not think of what was behind.

She pressed on, wishing, for more than once, she'd taken up John's offer of additional training. All of the expedition went through regular training exercises to keep up physical fitness, but he'd once told her she had more need of defensive skills in case something like—well, something like _this_—had ever happened.

She'd replied she'd probably have him around to worry about it for her. Stupid, stupid reasoning. Well, at least Teyla had been more insistent, though the few practices she'd had with the Banto sticks probably wouldn't help her against the more seasoned warriors Immaria held.

The lights were becoming recognizable; tall, blue-green bubble lamps, twice the size of those in Atlantis—lit up a magnificent archway. If she wasn't mistaken, there was daylight coming in from a hallway to the left.

Her chest was burning and her side was beginning to cramp; she paused against one of the stone walls, laying her hand on the cold, smooth surface. There was a light sconce just a few feet over her head; its inactiveness made her realize that it probably required the Ancient gene—or someone with it—to activate. Neither of which she had, at the moment.

If she drew closer to the door, she ran the risk of the Immarians finding her location. But there was nowhere to hide here; particularly in an area the Immarians were familiar with. Capture, she thought with a sinking heart, was inevitable.

Towards the daylight it was.

As she peered around the corner, she caught sight of some of the Immarian's female foot soldiers moving with hurried urgency through the large field in the center of the stone circle. Straight towards her.

Elizabeth shrank up against one of the columns, drawing herself into the shadows of the small corner she'd edged into. It was almost enough to cover her, though the bright red of her shirt seemed impossible to hide even in the darkness. It was one of the few times she'd regretted bearing the color of authority.

The girls darted quickly into the passage, taking no time to scout around the entrance. Obviously they believed she hadn't made it up the passageway yet. They were so close the breeze from their swiftness blew her hair around her face and she held her breath, trying not to move.

They faded into the darkness, their footsteps eventually drumming further and further down the hall. Elizabeth chanced a quick look around the corner once more; the field was clear, though more scouting parties were headed towards the entrance to her three o'clock position, the strange archway noted as 'Trust' where Sita had said the Healing Rooms were. She'd never make it, running in plain sight.

There was a dull echo coming down the hallway behind her.

The scouts were coming back.

Her breath caught and she scanned the area quickly, trying to find another place to hide. If they didn't find her this time, they'd know she was close by, that she hadn't gone into the field. They might chance she'd run past the open entrance, down the inner tunnels towards the Halls of Trust, but the other scouting party would soon meet them.

There was no time left.

Across from the open entrance to the field was a small door. She didn't bother to think, just bolted across the bright area, flinging her hand over the crystal door lock. After a moment it chirped and slid open, and she squeezed through it.

A minute passed, and she could hear the echo of the feet, thudding past the door, which had thankfully closed quickly. Some of the throng paused, apparently searching around the archway, and then moved on, until the patter disappeared in the opposite direction.

They hadn't even bothered with the door.

She turned, slightly confused. The door was an obvious place to look; it surprised her they hadn't even thought to check.

As she glanced up, she suddenly understood why.

--/--

This world, like Neron, was cold. Ronon swung his arms a few times, letting cold bite down on his skin and the blood flow through it.

Sheppard and the other marines seemed oblivious to the temperature; they began a brisk walk almost immediately, heading down a manmade path through some open trees. Ronon didn't like the speed at which they were moving; it meant less time to survey the area and check for traps, but he supposed there wasn't much choice. If Weir was on this planet, they needed to find her, fast.

Teyla joined him in a jog, as did McKay, who, once again, wasn't complaining. At least not much.

They managed to reach the marines as the path cleared a small ridge. Down below them, a rustic-style settlement sat peacefully nestled in a frosty vale. Sheppard pursed his lips. "Move out."

He felt Teyla twitch beside him. Sheppard must have noticed it, too, because he paused, tossing them a quick glance. "Don't worry, I haven't told them to pillage and plunder, just to ask a few questions here and there."

"What do we do if we find out she's down there?"

The colonel's expression hardened. "Well, that might change things."

Ronon clicked his gun to stun, just in case. Teyla threw him a confused glance, which he returned with a stoic shrug. Nobody said he had to be about attacking _all _the time.

McKay held up the life signs detector he'd brought with them. "Seems to be about twenty-four people in the village, not counting our marines."

"This does not appear to be the type of settlement the Immarians would call home," Teyla said. "Though they are of a more primitive culture, their understanding of Lantean systems and their lack of surprise at the nature of Atlantis would suggest they are familiar with at least with some form of technological society."

"Please. They wore loincloths," snapped Rodney.

"So did the Nox." Sheppard replied, though his downcast expression indicated he was thinking the same thing as Teyla. The reference was one Ronon missed, but apparently McKay understood, because he made a face.

The soldiers were making good time towards the village. Sheppard nodded towards the settlement, donning a pair of sunglasses, and motioned to the people who were slowly emerging from the shelter of their world to find out what the Stargate had brought. "Come on."

--/--

Elizabeth stared, amazed, at the sight before her. Massive stones rose up, their smooth surfaces carved with thousands of Ancient characters. She'd never seen such a massive collection of Ancient text laid out in one place like this, and it stretched as far down the hall as she could see. They were lit with bubble lamps lining the long corridor, the text seeming to shimmer, as though it were inset with metal.

She walked slowly down the hall beside them, taking in their enormous size and the meaning behind the writings. Each of the stones seemed to address rules of some kind, worded not too dissimilarly from American legal books. She peered closer at one of them, the top of the stone marked with a header of sorts: Warriors.

She was looking at the Testament.

A few of the characters she didn't recognize. Though the Ancient database on Atlantis covered most of the Ancient language, it was massive and she hadn't had time to study it all. Here, she could translate larger chunks throughout the text: '_trained from the age of nine' 'training methods include isolation' 'no males on commissioned path' 'leadership to be held by seasoned warrior via election' _and other generic, though precise, rules.

As she scrolled down the tablets she found that most everything from a societal standpoint was addressed, from what types of uniforms the warriors wore to how they should handle childbirth and relationships. As they council had so vehemently argued, everything had a rule, and every rule had a punishment, should it be broken. And it appeared, at least from what she had seen of their society, that the rules in general had been followed.

She moved to the next tablet, observing the same strict guidelines for the other areas of government. Each subsequent stone held rules for almost all aspects of society, governance, and lifestyle. Healers had special exceptions, she noted, but everyone else—teachers, librarians, even some of the community positions, such as bakers and hunters, had rules laid out to govern them.

A tablet three-quarters of the way down laid out the rules of law as applied to those who threatened the ways of Immarian life. As Thorvir had argued, there were almost draconian measures to be taken if an alien culture threatened them. Punishment for betrayal by their own people was almost as strict.

It was disturbing, but it supported what the Immarian justices had argued about their laws and beliefs. Almost. As Sita had mentioned, there were no provisions for death by anything other than exile.

She was reaching the end of the long list of tablets. Ahead of her was a pair of sliding doors, similar to the one she'd entered the hall through, with a control crystal box at the far left side. She waved her hand over it, but the box didn't chirp as the earlier door had.

She frowned; more than likely, it required someone with the Ancient gene to open it—probably a permanent requirement, unlike the doors on Atlantis, which only required activation by the gene.

Again she wished fervently that John were here, though he'd have something cheeky to say about her needing him only for his genetics. The thought of the casual, upturned smile he'd give as he said it caused some of her adrenaline-inspired courage to falter and she flexed a fist in front of her lips, trying not to give into the feelings of despair slowly welling up inside her.

_John wouldn't give up, _she thought, pressing her lips together. _He'd fight until every last damn opportunity was exhausted. Until he didn't have any life left to fight with. Even if everyone else had given up._

But they wouldn't give up. Not Ronon, not Teyla, not Rodney. Her entire Atlantis team had been selected because of their spirit as much as their talent. Even Rodney, for all his complaining, would fight to the bitter end to ensure the survival of everyone on Atlantis.

The thought of her chief scientist brought Elizabeth's attention back to the box in front of her. Elizabeth studied it more closely, looking for a small hole Rodney had shown her once or twice when he was working on the door locks. She found it after a minute, using her fingernail to coax it open. The top of the box popped off, and she was confronted with the crystal tray that controlled the three large door crystals and the door locks.

She examined it for a minute, trying to remember Rodney's instructions on how to adjust the bits inside. Normally he'd use a tool of some kind, but she'd have to hope she could maneuver the mechanics with nothing but her fingers.

She could feel nervous sweat start to trickle down the back of her neck as she worked, sliding the crystals in and out in different sequences, moving smaller crystals around with her fingers, trying desperately to get the three large ones to slide into an automatic opening sequence.

The hallway behind her seemed quiet, but she was certain any minute one of the warrior groups—or maybe the Judges themselves—would open it to find her here.

Her fingers started shaking and she took a few deep breaths, trying to prevent herself from hyperventilating. Damp streaks appeared on the crystals from her sweaty fingers, creating trails and evaporating almost as quickly as they appeared.

There was a scraping from the far end of the hall; Elizabeth held her breath, still fiddling with the box.

The box gave a chirp, then another, and the doors slid open.

She darted into them, not waiting to see if the sound she'd heard was the door to the other side opening. For now, she was safely on the other side of the barrier, though she didn't know for how long.


	15. Truth

The room was quiet and dark. Elizabeth stood, motionless, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. It didn't help much; after a few moments she could see no further than she had when the door had shut her in.

Her footsteps still echoed in the chamber, but the sound didn't travel as far, meaning the room was not nearly as large as the hallway that had led up to it. Her boots clattered on tiling, probably Ancient, if the other rooms were any indication.

She wasn't expecting any kind of help from the Ancient technology in the room; whatever this chamber possessed, she didn't have the DNA to activate it. But she pressed on anyway, moving slowly; hands outstretched in front of her, attempting to figure out what it was that was so precious that it was locked away from a place the warriors hadn't even considered looking.

To her surprise, something in front of her began to glow; despite her lack of Ancient genetic material, this, apparently, was not something that required it. She drew closer to the light, which shone a soft, incandescent blue and grew brighter as she approached.

Words.

Carved into the stone, a tall tablet just like the ones outside, written in Ancient. The characters were made of some kind of material Elizabeth was not familiar with, though it was slightly reminiscent of the blue glow from the Chevrons in the Atlantis gate.

She raised fingers to the letters, which were large up close. The final set, towering high above her, lit up as she reached for the stone. The translation was quite clear.

_Final Testament._

There was not a lot written on the tablet, compared to the volumes of laws and rules lining the corridors beyond. A few paragraphs, in modern terms. Most of it was not easily translatable but she went slowly, especially when one word a few lines in caught her attention.

_Atlantis._

Thorvir had mentioned something about Atlantis being in the Testament earlier, during the trial. But to her knowledge, nothing had come up about the city in the Testament tablets lining the previous room.

She focused on the writing, racking her brain for every character, every translation she knew. Most of it came to her quickly; a few she had to dig for, though context helped.

By the end she felt exhausted, but triumphant. A feeling that faded as she turned around, coming face to face with one of the young men who'd traveled with Karon to Atlantis.

"Fasir." She hadn't heard the door open, though obviously he wasn't expecting to find her here, as he gazed between her and the lit translation, looking panicked.

"What have you done?" he cried, his expression growing hateful. "You're not supposed to be in here! No woman is allowed in here!"

"Maybe not now," she murmured, crossing her arms and feeling more confident than she had in days. "But they will be from now on, won't they? And suddenly it all makes sense."

He clenched his jaw. "What?"

"Why your Elders are so desperate to see me die they'd concoct just about anything to make it happen."

--/--

It took Ronon and the rest of them a little while to get down the path. As they reached the village one of the elders stepped up to the soldiers, hands raised. "Please! We have nothing to offer you. Please do not harm us."

A young lieutenant raised an eyebrow. "We're not going to harm you, sir."

"What he said," echoed Sheppard, moving towards them. Ronon followed, arms crossed, as did the rest of the team.

"Then why are you here?" asked the old man, eyes glancing at the weaponry carried by the group.

"We just need some information. We're looking for…someone." His breath caught on the last few words.

"A tribe of people known as the Immarians," Teyla finished, allowing Sheppard to compose himself. "We believe they inhabit a planet similar to yours."

The old man frowned, and a few members of the planet turned to each other in confusion. "Immarians? I am sorry, young one, but I do not know of the peoples of which you speak."

"They're pretty rustic—carry big sticks? Wear furs? General attitude of arrogance? Might call themselves Ancients?" McKay said.

"Ancients?"

"Ancestors," Teyla returned. "This tribe apparently believes they are descended from the Ancestors through blood lineage."

"If we knew of descendents of the Ancestors, we would be most honored," the man replied. "But there is no one here now who exists of that lineage. Once, our planet was inhabited by those descended from the Ancestors, but their city was abandoned after an attack by the Wraith many thousands of years ago. The ruins of their structures are but a half a kiylos beyond the Ceremonial Ring."

"You mean the Stargate?"

The elder nodded. "We rarely venture through the Ring and those which come here through it are generally traders in need of supplies. We have been told of the re-awakening of the Wraith, and it has encouraged us to maintain our silence and simple life here. They have not found us yet."

"Give them time," McKay muttered.

Sheppard quirked a smile, though his expression remained intensely focused. "So you've never even heard of these guys, even among your trading partners?"

"I am sorry, but no."

"Do you mind if we have a quick look around?"

The Elder frowned, but after a glance at his people, shrugged. "If you wish."

The marines spread out automatically, though Ronon, along with Teyla, remained with Sheppard at the center of the village. McKay moved over the edge of the settlement, fiddling with some equipment.

As the soldiers flipped through tents and some belongings, one of the women addressed Teyla. "Why do you look for these people? Have they done you harm?"

Teyla smiled softly. "They have taken something from us."

"Something important?" piped a child nearby, eyeing Sheppard's P-90 with poorly concealed fascination.

"You could say that," returned the Colonel softly, and for a moment Ronon felt despair settle in among his teammates. He generally had a good sense about situations, and here, he was pretty certain they'd hit another 'dead end,' as Sheppard would put it.

The marines finished their sweep fairly quickly, and returned to the colonel, the major leading them shaking his head. McKay also returned, tapping the screen of one of his small handheld devices. "I don't think this is it."

"Really," returned Sheppard flatly. "What was your first clue, Rodney?"

"They don't possess any kind of…oh, right. Sarcasm. Look, I'm just trying to help."

"I know." Sheppard's voice was suddenly absent of emotion. He turned to the elder. "Sorry to bother you. We'll just be going."

As the group turned to leave, the elder stepped out. "Would you like to give us the symbols to your planet? If we hear of these 'Immarians', we would contact you."

Teyla frowned, but Sheppard had already anticipated this. "Nah. It's probably better you didn't—low profile with the Wraith and all. Keeping in touch with us might be bad for your health, if you know what I mean. Thanks, anyway." He turned to the group of soldiers. "Move out."

By their expressions, the villagers were not fully aware of what his refusal meant, but the elder seemed to understand the conciliatory nature of the offering. He bowed his head in thanks.

"May the Ancestors protect you," Teyla murmured as they turned to leave.

"And you as well."

"I hope you get back what you lost!" the child who'd spoken earlier shouted to them. Sheppard raised a hand in response, but said no more, turning and briskly following the marines who were now marching out of the settlement.

--/--

"Stephen."

"General."

"How are you holding up?"

Caldwell rolled his thumb and forefinger together, frowning at the image of General Landry on the vid screen. "About as well as can be expected, I guess."

"No luck?"

"No. Sheppard and his team have been gone for a few hours, scouting a potential lead, but nothing so far."

"Well, this isn't going to help matters any." Hank sighed. "The IOA have selected their temporary civilian replacement for Doctor Weir."

"I see."

"They seem to be of the mindset that this should be handled sooner rather than later. I can't say I agree with them, but then I'm just the military brass."

"If you don't mind me asking, Sir, who is it going to be?"

"I would expect you to ask, Stephen. It's Richard Woolsey."

"Woolsey?" Stephen frowned. "Last I heard he was not exactly eager to return to Atlantis."

"I think that's precisely why the IOA chose him. He has experience with the city, plus he's got no personal motives for assuming the temporary post. Which hopefully means he'll be able to maintain all the Pegasus alliances we've established. He won't upset the locals, in other words."

"It's not the Pegasus locals that concern me."

Landry bent his head. "Woolsey may not be the primary choice by anyone on Atlantis, but honestly who would be? Whoever the IOA sends over is not going to receive a warm welcome as Elizabeth's replacement."

"Woolsey questioned Weir's abilities the last time he was here. Do you really think he's going to be embraced, especially in light of the circumstances?"

"They'll have no choice, Stephen."

Caldwell frowned. "How long?"

"He's scheduled to arrive via jumper, through Midway, around 1800 your time."

"And what are we to expect when he arrives?"

"Well, that would be up to the IOA."

"Is he going to call off the search?"

Landry paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. "No one's given me any indication…"

Stephen raised his head, and fixed the General with a disbelieving look. Landry met his stare for a moment, the smiled wanly. "But that would be my guess."

Chuck, the technician who maintained the dialing station, glanced over them, then quickly dropped his gaze.

Caldwell sighed. "Is there no way to convince the IOA to keep looking, at least for a few more days? Give Doctor McKay a chance to run a few more tests on those dialing crystals?"

"I don't honestly know, Colonel. But my hunch is the IOA isn't going to waste any more manpower on what they believe to be a lost cause."

"If it were Sheppard or anyone else on this base, Weir would not allow anyone to convince her it was anything other than salvageable until the very last option had been exercised."

"Yes," Landry replied, with a grin. "But that was Elizabeth. She had the tenacity of a firecracker and the IOA knew better than to mess with her. Hell, so did we half the time."

"Don't you think we owe her a little of that in return, General?"

Hank stared at him for a moment, then pursed his lips. "Maybe, Stephen. Maybe. I would say you have 24 hours to do just that."

The vid screen went black. Caldwell stared at it for a moment, then turned, and clapped Chuck across the shoulder. "Don't worry," he said, as the young man gazed up at him with tired eyes. "This isn't over yet."

"Yes, sir," Chuck replied, though the look on his face matched Stephen's own feelings on the matter.

--/--

Fasir clenched his fists. "Why are you here?"

"At the moment, trying to figure out what to do next." Elizabeth crossed her arms, studying him with narrowed eyes. "Should I go to your Elders, or directly to your tribe's people?"

"You will go nowhere but to the fate to which you have been sentenced!"

"Not according to this," she returned. "Neither you nor your Justices had any right to hold that trial, or that sentencing, based on this. And I am quite sure than once they realize I'm aware of what is said on this tablet, and the ones out there, a few things are going to change."

The young man swallowed. "It changes nothing."

"No? I've been sentenced to death for a crime your people can't possibly charge me with, in light of this. And as soon as someone convinces your people—not your judges, your _people_—of the Final Testament's words, I'll be allowed to walk right out of here and back to my home. To _Atlantis._"

"YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND THE FINAL TESTAMENT!" Fasir roared. "YOU ARE A WOMAN! YOU CANNOT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!"

"_The people of Immaria are bound_," Elizabeth recited, stepping towards him. As if in response to her translation, the Final Testament lit up a bright, electric blue. "_Bound to the ways of ancient times, to the laws and principles established by their ancestors. They are a people created by the Alterans, special in ways few other created by the Ancient Ones will be_._ So it has been for thousands of years._

"_And yet change is upon. Darkness shadows the stars and we are destined to fade into them. Should our children survive this evil, we leave this Final Testament for them: when the time for change comes again, look to the greatest of the chosen, the ones chosen for Atlantis, to guide you. Only those who are our most worthy descendents will be granted the keys to the city of the Alterans; who will raise it to greater splendor then ever their ancestors did." _

He stumbled back, eyes wide, as she translated on.

"_They are your future. Their ways will become your ways. Their leaders will become your leaders, their laws your laws. As much as ever the Alterans of old became your past, so shall the people of Atlantis be your future. From wherever they descend, however they rule, they are the Chosen, the ones meant to be followed. _

_And to their will, you must bend._

"_This is the Final Testament of the Alterans to all their children, the Immarians, handed down by their ancestors. By their hand were you created, by their legacy will you live, and by their descendents, will you be ever saved."_

Elizabeth paused, crossing her arms. "Sita tried to explain this to me when we first met—but I didn't understand her meaning. I do now. It must be _very _difficult to realize that your entire world is about to change because Atlantis was raised. And not by the Alterans as you knew them, but by people whose ways are so incredibly different from yours. A female governor. Warriors led by a man."

Fasir bumped into the door to the room, glaring. "You are _not_ the chosen people of which the Testament speaks. You cannot be. And you are infected. Tainted."

"Whether or not we fit the ideals you and your Elders believe are the right ones, according to _this _law, it doesn't matter. Neither does my being 'touched' by the Asurans. I am the leader of those who raised Atlantis. Any judgment made upon me should have been made by the laws governing _my _city. And it is up to your people—ALL your people—to decide whether or not they will also adopt those laws for themselves." She frowned, eyes narrowing. "But none of them know of this, do they? They've not been allowed to read any of the Testament, least of all this. Only a chosen few. The rest could go on in blissful ignorance without realizing that they actually have the choice—and the chance—to change this world."

"The people—_my _people, are content with this world!" Fasir hissed. "They would not wish to change it!"

"But that should be for them to decide, shouldn't it?" she asked. "Whether they would wish to do as the Testament commands or not, they deserve to be given the choice. Neither you nor your Elders are giving them that choice."

Fasir's fists tightened around the stick on his belt. "You do not know of what you speak."

"Oh, I think I know exactly of what I speak," Elizabeth replied sternly. "Now please move. There are a few people I need to talk with."

"You can't! You…"

"Move." She moved up close to him, her voice cold and full of steel. All the fear, the panic, had dissolved into an unshakeable kind of anger. Her eyebrow raised as he frowned, glared. "I won't ask again."

Fasir stood in front of her a moment more, then slowly slid out of the way. She continued to watch him as he circled behind her, allowing her access to the crystal door lock, which, having been activated by him, now glowed blue.

As the door slid open she felt an enormous sense of relief. The stone tablets lining the corridors of the Halls of the Testament seemed innocuous now, the laws written on them an archaic remnant of a culture that, hopefully, would be given the chance to be evolved out of history.

--/--

The hike back up to the Stargate was much less swift than the march down into the vale. Teyla admired the brisk pace set by the marines, who seemed oblivious to the steep path and cold temperatures. She was by no means of a weak constitution, but their strength of will would challenge even Ronon's athleticism.

At the moment he seemed less than determined, scaling the hill with little difficulty but with no energy. Much in the same manner as John, who was a few paces ahead of them, head down and shoulders slumped.

Teyla drew a breath. There was little she could do to offer comfort; at this moment, all hope within the group seemed close to being extinguished. Even she would admit that their chances of finding Elizabeth seemed very slim.

A groan behind her gave her pause; she turned as Rodney sat back onto a nearby boulder, resting his hands on his knees. The sound also stopped Ronon and Colonel Sheppard's progression, who both glanced over to check on their teammate. Rodney's apparently immoveable form allowed them both to relax for a moment, balanced carelessly on the slope of the trail.

"You…you go on without me," Rodney huffed. "I'll be fine here. Just a few more minutes rest, I should be able to get back up there."

John smiled an emotionless grin, his eyes unreadable behind their glasses. "We're not leaving you here by yourself, McKay."

"I'm serious. I'll only be a few minutes…I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will. We're still not leaving you."

Rodney stared between them for a moment, then nodded. "Have it your way."

"This is Sheppard," the Colonel spoke into his radio. "We got caught up back on the trail. Wait for us at the gate."

McKay lowered his head as they hovered around him, Teyla taking the time to breathe in a few more breaths of the crisp, clean air while Ronon and John surveyed the area. After a few minutes more the scientist appeared rejuvenated, and he rose slowly, wincing as he pushed off the stone with his injured hand, and started back up the trail.

The others set pace ahead of them, though Teyla stayed behind with Rodney to ensure he needed no other assistance. He marched silently beside her for a moment, then stopped again. "Wait. Before we get up there…I have to say this."

John whirled around again, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "McKay."

"No. Look. This is important."

The Colonel frowned, though he placed both hands on his P-90, head tilted.

"I just wanted to say…that I'm sorry."

"For what, Rodney?" Teyla queried.

"This. All of this. Running us in circles. Getting our hopes up."

"It was not your fault. You have provided us with more than we have had in the last few days. You discovered what you believed was a correct path. We would not expect any less of you."

"Yeah, well, still," he stared for a moment at Sheppard, whose easygoing expression had faded. "I'm sorry for it anyway."

"You can't be right all the time, McKay," Ronon remarked.

"I know that. But…I wanted to be today," the scientist murmured. "I just wanted to find Elizabeth."

Teyla placed a soothing hand on McKay's shoulder. "We must just keep looking. And not allow our doubts to overtake us. That is all we can do."

John said nothing, but started up the pathway again, Ronon turning to follow. Teyla could read the expression of the Colonel's form, and she knew that he had taken Rodney's words to heart, yet could not himself express the same emotion. He did not feel the need to accept the apology for her loss, for he felt himself far more responsible for it. Feelings such as those would only deepen with time.

Despite her belief in a positive outcome it seemed more and more like they may be losing the battle of wills needed to endure this fight. The biggest question for her was whether Elizabeth would be the only casualty.

--/--

She didn't hear the footsteps come up from behind, but the blow struck her across the shoulder, causing her to stumble forward and tumble to the ground.

Elizabeth glanced up, stunned, as Fasir moved towards her, swinging at her with his banto-like weapon. She evaded quickly, pulling to her feet as he approached again, the expression in his eyes wild.

She'd seen this reaction before and she admonished herself for not recognizing sooner the chance of this. Her own desperation to set things right, to rectify the wrongs done to her and to get home, had caused her to ignore one very important element of her diplomatic training—respect the opposition. Doing any less significantly increased the chance of failure, or worse.

This was the worse any diplomat feared.

Fasir swung at her again and she dodged, whirling around towards the entrance to the Halls of Testament. She was ill-prepared to fight, and even Teyla's considerate training did not make her any more willing to strike back.

Pressing all of her energy into her legs, she shot towards the door, the tablets around her blurring into a mess of words and symbols, dead air whipping up as she hurtled down the hallway, hoping, somehow, she'd be able to reach the door.

Fasir's startled cry echoed through the room, hollowly reverberating around her. She could see it now, the blue crystal box that would get her out of here, allow her, ironically, into the safer world of the Immarian village. She slid to a stop in front of it, waving wildly at the crystals.

They didn't respond.

Hands clasped her shoulders, yanking her off her feet, pulling her away from the exit. She tumbled to the floor, rolling a few times, panting heavily as Fasir rushed towards her, a foot slamming into her middle. The force of it knocked the wind out of her and she gasped, trying to recover breaths that felt like they would not come.

He was relentless, pounding forward again and again, smashing into other parts of her body she was unable to protect until she was curled into a fetal position, desperately fending off the attack with a weakly raised arm.

Something inside her snapped in desperation and she remembered something Teyla had taught her. Her hand closed around the back of his foot and he stumbled for a moment, giving her just enough time to tug, hard, on the leg he had raised and force him backwards, off his feet.

He hit the ground with a thud, his stick jostled from his hand and falling across the floor with a clatter. She pulled to her feet, adrenaline taking the edge off the sharp pain radiating through her torso, and scrambled for it.

As he pulled up she clasped the stick in her hand, and his next charge, fueled by anger, met a sharp strike to the side of his head. He stumbled around, stunned, and turned to her as she backed towards the door, one arm wrapped around her middle, the other holding the stick in a threatening position. He set his jaw and charged again; she whirled to the avoid him, letting his own power force him off balance, and struck again, this time hitting his back and propelling him forward, into the wall.

When he raised his face again there was blood trickling from his nose. Elizabeth continued to back towards the door, feeling nauseated and confused; shaky at having to defend herself.

Fasir trembled with rage, fists clenched. There wasn't going to be any time left.

She flung herself at the door, waving a desperate hand over the control crystals. This time they worked and as the door slid open he charged her again. She darted towards the opening, holding the club up defensively. Her misdirect slowed him for only a second, but it was enough time for her to backhand him in the face, the stick reverberating against skull bone. He paused, the effect obviously disorienting him, but as she pulled herself through the archway she knew it wasn't enough. His hand closed around her wrist and the stick dropped uselessly from her palm.

There were people in the corridor; voices echoed from somewhere in the inky blackness to her right and lights were coming on down the tunnel. Fasir raised a hand, fingers clenched, and struck her in the face. Light exploded in front of her closed eyes, a blinding flash of pain, and the ache that still throbbed somewhere in the back of her head amplified until all she could feel was the pounding.

She was on her knees now; her hand found the floor and he struck her again in the ribs, this time with enough force to cause something to snap. Pain coursed through her stomach and she struggled to get away from him, but his grip on her wrist was unrelenting.

The voices were close now, and the padding of feet, probably in response to the blended cries of her anguish and Fasir's rage drawing them to the Halls.

Her teeth clenched; this was not how she wanted to end, beaten like a helpless, weak thing. No one else she knew, John, even Rodney, would do _something. _

"_STOP_!" she yelled, propelling herself forward, at him. He released her in surprise and they tumbled to the ground together. Her fists swung out towards him, striking him somewhere around the side; he grunted in response.

The blurriness faded from her vision and she pulled herself as much into a stand as she could, her ribs aching in blinding pain, head still pounding.

Elizabeth stumbled back as the first of the voices reached them, finally. Karon stopped, eyes widening, at the sight before him.

"Fa…Fasir?" he asked, looking surprised.

The younger man drew to his feet, trying to catch his breath. Elizabeth found herself backing towards the one who had been her adversary for so long in the courtroom. Karon had struck her, once, in anger, but never to the extent of his friend.

"Wait," he said, raising a hand. "Fasir, what has happened?"

"SHE READ IT!" Fasir screamed, hurtling towards her like a charging animal. Elizabeth stepped away, dodging him, causing him to stumble forward.

"Read what?"

Fasir was on his feet again and she struggled towards Karon, her vision blurring into double.

"_THE_ _FINAL_ _TESTAMENT_!" came the cry from somewhere behind her. Blindly, she reached towards the young leader and his hands found her shoulders. For a blessed second her vision cleared enough to catch sight of his face, which stared at her as though he'd not seen her before, panic and fear written across his features.

"You have to stop this," she whispered.

His eyes were locked to hers, they widened only slightly at the sight of something behind her. She sensed, rather than saw, the blow coming towards her. Karon's hands released her, his voice crying out in desperation.

"FASIR! NO!"

There was a massive crack; she felt a strange wetness explode around her along with the pain and then everything was instantly, blessedly dark.


	16. Resolve

For one of the first times in his life, Rodney did not look forward to returning to Atlantis. Normally, he'd be glad for the comforts it offered—shelter, food, his lab and experiments to throw himself into—but this time, the faces of the expedition members as they marched back into the gateroom empty-handed was almost more than he could stand.

Sheppard removed his sunglasses, wearing the same weary expression as the rest of the gateroom, though there was a deeper sadness to him. He hadn't said anything during the march back to the gate following Rodney's apology and it reminded him, uncomfortably, of the few days following the mess that was Arcturus. He knew Sheppard didn't blame him for this, but that didn't ease the feeling that his overenthusiastic response to Zelenka's discovery had, perhaps, raised people's hopes beyond what they should have been.

As Radek looked down from the control room, his face only one of the many forlorn gathered around him, Rodney began to understand what all of this was really about.

_It's not just rescue. Or saving a friend. This is infinitely bigger than that._

Losing Elizabeth wasn't just losing a leader, or someone they cared about. It was losing, in one way, a part of the heart of the Expedition. Her actions had led them to Atlantis, guided them, and kept them safe. She'd made decisions that had saved all their lives, and taken the blame when they made poor ones, even when it didn't wholly rest with her. They would not be where they were had it not been for her, and if she was taken from them, nothing would be the same. All their lives would be changed forever, and everyone, even those not a part of Atlantis, understood that.

Except for himself, by all measure the smartest man among them. He'd been the last one to figure that out.

The control room techs stared at them for a moment or two, then silently returned to their stations. Sheppard nodded at the marines, who trooped off in twos, heading for the locker rooms.

Caldwell met them halfway up the staircase. He didn't need to ask the obvious question, it was quite clearly written across all of their faces exactly what they'd found—or rather, didn't find.

"Earth dialed in while you were gone," Caldwell said. "The IOA has a replacement lined up."

Sheppard paused on the top step. "That was quick."

"Yes. But apparently the IOA thinks it's necessary. He's coming tomorrow."

Teyla and Ronon exchanged glances. Rodney didn't blame them for feeling concerned; the IOA had never been friendly to aliens near Earth programs. "Who is it?"

"If I'm to understand correctly," Caldwell continued, moving up the stairs again, "it's Richard Woolsey."

"That bureaucratic nitwit who almost got himself mind probed out of existence?" Rodney asked. "Who on Earth thought he'd be a good choice?"

"Apparently everybody, at least for now. From what General Landry relayed, Woolsey will be a temporary civilian stand-in until a formal hearing can be arranged to determine who is qualified enough for the position."

"But he will be handling all negotiations for Atlantis within this galaxy?" Teyla asked with a desperate edge to her voice.

Caldwell's expression softened slightly. Who knew the man had a heart? "I believe he'll be overseeing things for the time being, but he won't be making any major changes, at least not primarily."

"Don't worry, like I told you before, your people will be safe," Sheppard continued, giving her a small, emotionless smile.

She nodded an acknowledgment, though she still appeared troubled.

"And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Rodney queried.

Caldwell crossed his arms as they reached the control room. "Woolsey is due to arrive in approximately twenty hours. That gives you exactly twenty hours to do what you need to do to find Doctor Weir without IOA involvement. I suggest you hurry."

Rodney studied him for a moment, surprised. "Isn't that what we've been doing?"

Sheppard was also watching the Colonel, though his expression was suspicious. "We've been…cautious…with our efforts so far."

"You have. I expect if you want to cut a few corners here and there at this point, no one will object."

"But we don't really have any…"

Caldwell turned to him, not quite meeting his gaze. "Like I said, Doctor McKay, whatever you have to do."

"Widen your search parameters, Rodney," Sheppard said quickly, his manner quietly determined. "Have your team locate planets that have potential. We'll send scouts out to every one we can."

Caldwell said nothing, though if Rodney wasn't mistaken, his expression softened ever so slightly into something like a smile.

Sheppard turned to them. "We need to meet with the Minerians…see if they've heard of anything. Teyla—do you think your people's offer still stands?"

"I will contact New Athos and gather Halling and his warriors. I am certain they would be more than happy to visit other worlds to help in the search."

"Thanks. Ronon, Rodney, you're with me. We'll gather all the other teams and give them each a planet to make contact with."

"Some of them are still needed to recover dialing crystal information," Radek interjected.

"Fine. We'll split the different. What's the next planet on your list?"

"M18-252," Zelenka replied. "It was two iterations in. Obviously we have not widened the parameters yet, but it was a close match to the original ones."

"Good. Let Lorne know. Colonel Caldwell…"

"I'll brief the rest of the teams myself."

"Thanks." He turned to Chuck, giving him a nod. "Dial up Mineria."

"What? But…w-wait!" Rodney spluttered. "Shouldn't we contact them first? Or at least get some more weapons together? I mean, these are the people who stabbed us in the back—a little preparation couldn't hurt. If they know something about Elizabeth…"

"Then we don't have time to waste. Get moving, Rodney."

"But what if they do know something? And what about those warriors, if we happen to run across them? The last time…"

"The last time I didn't realize what we were up against," Ronon intoned. "This time…" He flipped the switch on his gun, the small weapon making a high pitched whine as it changed modes from _stun_ to _kill_. Sheppard eyed the weapon for a moment, but said nothing.

"Oh, right, the kill or be killed approach. No offense, but…"

"None taken."

Sheppard frowned, stepping between them and cutting off Rodney's next remark. "Look, you want to stay behind and piddle around in your lab or are you coming with us? Just how sorry are you?"

Rodney studied him for a moment; saw that same determined expression that nearly always meant they were going to be put in mortal danger.

And then the image of Elizabeth, sprawled across the floor. And his own foolishness in failing to understand…well, pretty much everything.

He sighed. "I'm coming."

"Great. Then no more wasting time. And no more complaining." He nodded at Caldwell, who returned the gesture. "Dial the gate."

--/--

The steady humming sounded familiar. Elizabeth tried to remember what made the sound, but nothing came to mind immediately; everything was foggy and dull.

A sharp pain in her stomach cleared her senses, and she could see the machine in her mind, the sound resonating through the infirmary whenever she was there.

"Carson?" she murmured, the act of breathing the word inflicting another stabbing pain in her abdomen.

"Be still," said a low voice. Something cold was applied to her arm, accompanied by a burning sensation. Elizabeth grimaced, willing her eyelids open, and took in a warm, wrinkled face hovering above hers.

The old woman from the trial smiled kindly at her, patting her arm where the poultice had been, and applied a dry bandage to the area. Elizabeth watched her for a moment, catching glimpses of the surroundings—sterile, cold, and dark, the walls lined with ancient technology. The woman herself was dressed in white, an outfit very similar to one she'd seen before.

Ancient attire.

"Where am I?" Elizabeth choked out, gritting her teeth as another spasm of pain slashed through her stomach.

"Be _still_," the woman chided. "You are in my infirmary."

"How did I get here?"

"Karon brought you." She laid a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, stopping her next question. "You have a set of broken ribs, which is going to make any kind of speaking very unpleasant until they're wrapped. Now do as I say and be still, and let me finish."

The old woman went about dressing parts of Elizabeth's arms and legs, the cool cloths she applied drenched in a smelly solution. Each burned and stung as it was applied; Elizabeth lay as still as she could and endured the pain, which quickly passed, until her benefactor began to treat her stomach. She finally groaned as the last dressing was pressed into her tender middle.

The woman smiled, coaxing her up off the table, which exactly matched those Carson used for surgery in Atlantis.

"Raise you arms," she ordered, kindly but firmly. "That's good."

The bandages smarted, but after the initial shock the binding felt comfortable. She was finished in a matter of minutes, handing Elizabeth a cup of strong smelling tea when she was done.

"It will take the edge off the pain," she said.

"Thank you," Elizabeth whispered, sipping it. It was very strong, with a bitter aftertaste. "I think."

"You will get somewhat drowsy, but it will ease your hurt and help you heal faster."

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, cradling the drink. "Sita told me you were called 'Neela'."

"I am," the woman replied with a small smile. She moved around the infirmary, if it could be called that, somewhat slowly. "I am the healer of the Immarians."

"You stood up for me during the trial. How were you able to do that without fear of repercussion? Or my nanites, for that matter?"

Neela turned, looking slightly amused. "Your being touched by the Asurans is an excuse, nothing more. Initially I will admit it was a shock, but obviously you pose no threat, or your own people would have confined you. As for my defense of you, it became quite clear when Sita revealed your 'infection' that no amount of argument would overcome their stubborn insistence on your guilt. They would find you had broken their laws in some way, no matter what the issue might have been. At which point it became fruitless to argue."

"At least you could argue," Elizabeth murmured. "I had no recourse. Why were you able to speak to them like that? And not end up…" she gestured to her face. "Is it because you are a healer?"

"In part. Healers are granted special privileges, and are held in high regard because we are few and far between," Neela replied. "You would not wave off any help in battle or illness, no matter what your beliefs. As it were, though, healers are one of the few positions that male or female may hold by permission of the Testament."

Elizabeth frowned. "I remember reading that."

"This is where you were when Fasir found you, was it not? In the Hall of Records? A bold move, even for an Immarian. What possessed you to enter there?"

"Nothing as great as ambition," Elizabeth returned with a soft smile. "I was hiding."

"But you also read the words, did you not?"

"Well, if I'm going to die for acting against Immarian laws, I guess I should know what those laws are."

Neela grasped a nearby stool, pulling it to Elizabeth's bedside. "Exile does not mean death around here."

"Bludgeoning, as I understand it, does."

"Bludgeoning?" Neela's eyes widened. "That was their sentence?"

"I don't understand," Elizabeth shook her head, feeling slightly woozy. "On the planet where I come from originally, we have records of people being denied simple rights, such as reading, eating in particular places or holding particular positions, because of genetic, religious or cultural differences. It was ludicrous. In some places, it still is. I do not understand how, in a society based upon the _Ancients_, the same type of ignorance exists. How could they have condoned such a society?"

"They did not. Execution is not a part of our laws," Neela replied sadly.

"So I've read," Elizabeth remarked with a bitter laugh. "Apparently, it is now."

The elder woman frowned. "Then it has gone too far."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Our society has not always been so…backwards. At one point, these rules and laws were for the best."

"The best? I just got beaten to within an inch of my life. For reading writing on a wall. Whatever system the Ancients attempted to devise here has gone seriously wrong, and that's putting it mildly."

"I did not say it turned out for the best. Perhaps they _believed_, once, that the system was one that would work."

"Then I would say they made the same mistake the Ancients very often made—failing to see the errors of their ways." She raised a hand to her head, which suddenly felt heavy. "I think your tea is beginning to work."

"Yes." The old lady's soft hands found her forehead, coaxing her back on the table. "You should rest. You will be allowed to remain here for a little while, but you shall have to be moved back to your tent now that your wounds have been treated."

"Thank you," Elizabeth grabbed the woman's fingers as she pulled her hands away.

"You need not thank me," Neela replied, her old eyes unusually vivid. "I do what I can."

"You've done more than enough."

"I don't think so, my dear. I haven't done more than enough for a very, very long time."

Elizabeth glanced up at her face, which was becoming rather blurry. "You sound like you've made mistakes."

"I have. We all have."

"Who?" The words were slurred.

"The Alterans, my dear."

Elizabeth's eyes flickered open, struggling to focus on the elderly face before her. Elderly, but not rheumy, like most struggling with old age. Wise, not tired.

"You're an Ancient," she breathed softly, before the world dissolved into blackness.


	17. Dark Hours

_Eighteen Hours Remaining_

Smeadon frowned at Sheppard, fingering a heavy candelabrum which decorated his desk. "You have not contacted us in many, many months, Colonel Sheppard. Why do you think we'd be willing to help you now—especially as Doctor Weir made that decision?"

Obviously the man had no sense of self-preservation. Surprisingly, however, Sheppard managed to maintain his cool, though Rodney noted the muscles in the back of his neck twitching.

"We don't think you'd be willing. We're not asking for your help, we're asking you a damn question. Have you heard of these people or not?"

The Minerian drew his eyes slowly up to them. "We have been without proper resources and in need of aid for quite a while, since the last culling. Atlantis has offered no support. I don't think I have any other answers to give you, Colonel."

"We'll bear that in mind for the next culling," Sheppard shot back. "Come on. We're wasting our time here."

"Just so you know," Rodney spat out, as Ronon and Sheppard headed for the door, "whenever you get your little shipment of supplies from the Genii? Guess who those really come from."

Smeadon's frown deepened. Sheppard called out to Rodney softly, but didn't step in.

"See, despite the fact that you basically almost got Elizabeth killed, and that we kinda don't have this thing about assisting traitors, she still knew you were in need of help and still found out a way to help you. That's the kind of person Elizabeth is. So in a few days or weeks, when the Genii suddenly have a hard time finding supplies to send you, bear in mind you neglected to help the one thing that probably got you what little assistance you deserve in the first place!"

He caught Ronon's grin widening as he stalked past them, heading for the door. Sheppard's expression wasn't nearly so smug, but the reassuring slap to Rodney's shoulder reaffirmed that, for once during this whole miserable experience, he'd said something of which to be proud.

--/--

_Sixteen Hours Remaining_

Richard Woolsey sat back in his chair, eyeing Shen Xiaoyi with displeasure. "You do understand that I am not in favor of this. I want that made very clear."

Shen smiled that condescending smile she generally reserved for problematic diplomats. "Yes, Richard, we are aware of your objections. However, as far as the IOA is concerned, electing to sit back and wait is not an option."

"There is no reason for this kind of drastic change. As far as we know, the threat of the Wraith or the Replicators is a far-off possibility, not an immediate danger."

"That is because at the moment, they believe Atlantis—those who are aware of its existence—in the same state as it has always been. Once it has been discovered Doctor Weir is missing, there is no way to tell what move will be made."

Richard made a face. "Do you mean to say that you honestly believe Elizabeth Weir makes that much of a difference to either the Wraith or the Replicators? Two races that we know had the power to overcome the Ancients? Held at bay by one human woman."

"It is not that simple."

"Then tell me what this is really about."

She sighed, her expression betraying her impatience. "Atlantis has maintained a status quo for three years of existence. Change that, and there is no telling what the results may yield."

"We've already seen what results may yield," he returned. "I don't think I have to remind you I got a first-hand look at what happened when Atlantis changed hands."

"That is exactly our position," Shen returned. "The ones controlling Atlantis at the time of the Replicator takeover were Ancients, and they were not capable of defending the city. Perhaps they were advanced, but they had no allies to speak of, no support from Earth and no weapons to defend themselves from the Replicators. We have the luxury of all three, but only so long as Atlantis maintains a strong front."

"We can have two of those three things without requiring a change in leadership. Allies…"

"…are not something we can take for granted, Richard," she barked, cutting him off. "You know that quite well."

"And Doctor Weir's work in that area has been almost flawless. Atlantis is not in danger of losing its Pegasus allies anytime soon."

"That is something of which we're not assured. The Ancient takeover of Atlantis threatened many of those relationships."

"I'm not asking for us to disregard the possibility of a leadership change. Only to wait a few more weeks. Give them more time for a search…"

"…that may already be fruitless," Shen returned. "There is no way to tell whether Doctor Weir remains alive or has already suffered death at the hands of her captors. This search could extend for years, to a hopeless end. But we do not have the luxury of allowing the Atlantis expedition that time to sit back and wait. The expedition, as always, requires a strong leader if it hopes to remain a beneficial outpost and anchor for Earth in the Pegasus galaxy."

"And what if it isn't fruitless?"

She blinked for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"

"What if you're willingly sacrificing a life—Doctor Weir's life—on an educated guess? One that may be wrong? The IOA _is_ taking a gamble here, presuming her death."

Shen's irritated expression faded, replaced with one that held a small trace of sympathy. "Doctor Weir understood the dangers associated with the Expedition when she agreed to take command. No one wants to see her lost, but that was the risk she, and everyone on that outpost, took."

"And that's just it. There are no other mitigating factors?" He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "I seem to remember not long ago the organization was seriously considering withdrawing her command."

"A Wraith ship was heading to Earth," she snapped. "Anyone's judgment would have been questioned in that instance. And as _I_ recall, the person sent to analyze her leadership capabilities determined her to be a competent and successful commander."

"I did. And I still hold that opinion."

"As do most of us," she said, then pushed back from the table, rising. "However, we also agree that if Atlantis is to remain a strong and viable asset for Earth, it cannot be seen as floundering. Renegades and terrorists will not be tolerated, and if that means Earth takes the hard line and sacrifices its leadership to prove that end, then so it must be."

He sighed. "They're not going to understand that, Xioayi."

"I would think they would understand it well enough."

"Not the Pegasus natives. The Expedition members."

She paused, eyes narrowing. "They'll understand. They won't _like_ it, but they'll understand. And truthfully, Richard, what they like and don't like doesn't really concern us. Make sure they understand _that_."

--/--

_Fifteen Hours Remaining _

There were voices in the darkness, muffled. Elizabeth struggled to open her eyes, but the warm, fluffy numbness in her limbs wouldn't allow her to move her eyelids. She focused on the voices instead, which sounded sharp and high pitched.

An argument.

"…that she is not safe here, and neither are you. She will put you in danger."

"The Council will not dare to set foot in these halls. And the danger is of my own making—I have placed her in danger, not the contrary."

"She is _not _your responsibility."

Elizabeth recognized that voice. A fuzzy image flitted through her mind. _Karon_.

"She is my responsibility. Much of this is my responsibility. And I shall finally seize control of it, as I should have many years ago."

_Neela_.

"With all due respect, Grandmother, what has happened has happened. If you fight them, you will be condemned to the same fate as she."

"Then so be it. I will not stand by as our rules and laws are distorted in such a manner as to render them useless."

"And what about meaningless?" Karon hissed. "That is what they are if she lives!"

There was a pause. Elizabeth struggled to find something to focus on. The fuzziness was returning, drawing her deeper into the darkness. But the argument was somehow important, and she wanted to hear it.

"Are they meaningless? Her ways would let Sita speak as a leader, as you've so often lamented cannot happen. They would allow you to show pity, which you feel you cannot do. Are you so proud of this culture of death and distortion you would sacrifice everything you might be to remain half of what you truly are?"

Silence again. Elizabeth felt herself slipping back into the blackness.

"I am sorry, Grandmother. But her fate will be enforced tomorrow, at dawn."

--/--

Evan Lorne kept his P-90 tucked by his side, eyeing the velvet-clad leader of M24-777, a man called Terset, and the host of spear-carrying guards pointing weapons at them. "Look, as I've said before, we're not here to threaten you. We just need to ask you and your people a few questions."

"That is a likely excuse," the young governor returned. "Armed teams do not come through the Ancestral Ring without some motive in mind. Why are you really here?"

"We're just looking for someone—a group of someones, actually. They call themselves Immarians."

Terset raised an eyebrow. "Immarians? They are warriors like you?"

There was a flutter of hope in Lorne's heart. "Yes."

"Hmm. I might have heard of them somewhere. Or one of my people has, perhaps. But it will not be easy to obtain this information."

"Really." Lorne frowned. Time wasn't something they had the luxury of spending. He decided on a test. "We can make it worth your while."

"How worth my while?"

"_Very_ worth your while."

The young man smiled greedily. "Allow me the luxury of a few hours. My people…"

"We don't have a few hours," Lorne returned, the flutter of hope fading. It was becoming clear what the man was up to. "We need to know if you know anything now."

For the first time, Terset's superciliousness faded down a tick. "These people have wronged you somehow."

"You could say that. Now, do you know anything or not?"

"Without the ability to consult my people…"

"I take that as a no." Lorne straightened. "We don't have time to play games, Governor. Thanks for your time." He turned, gesturing to the rest of his team to move out. "Oh, and that offer of assistance from Atlantis? Consider it rescinded. We don't have time for people who want to make a profit off misfortune."

"Sir…"

"Perhaps, if we find what we are looking for, you can renegotiate your cause. For now, though, goodbye, Mr. Terset. And good luck."

The warrior before them parted quickly, apparently wanting no part of them. Lorne didn't blame them; the mood of he and his team at this point would have stopped the Wraith in their tracks.

--/--

_Thirteen Hours Remaining_

Halling's large hand closed around Teyla's shoulder, gently squeezing. "I am sorry, Teyla."

She returned his kind gesture with a nod. "Thank you."

They had left the camp of the Laram a few minutes prior; like the other small villages they had visited, the Laramians had no knowledge of the whereabouts of Elizabeth or the tribe who had taken her. And like so many, they were ignorant of the Immarians presence in this galaxy at all.

"Your friends knew this would not be easy," he responded.

"Yes. But it does not lessen the sense of failure."

He paused, holding himself up tall as he had always done. "You have not failed, Teyla. None of the Lanteans have. This is something they must understand and accept."

"That may be difficult for them. They do not understand loss well."

"Of that I am well aware," Halling returned, a shadow of a smile flitting across his face. "Your Doctor Weir was quite stubborn in admitting assertions of her people's deaths. Or her friends."

Elizabeth's face danced through her head, and for the first time, she felt true sadness at the potential loss of her friend. "She is very strong-willed."

"That she was."

That Halling spoke of Elizabeth as already lost did not escape Teyla and the implication tore at her heart. She could not bear to think of what John and Rodney, among others, must also be feeling, for a friend of their own kind, lost to them through a series of unfortunate circumstances.

"We must…" she frowned, trying to find the words.

"We must keep searching until we no longer can search," he murmured. Teyla raised eyes to him.

He smiled his kind, reserved smile. "This is what Doctor Weir would ask of us, even if we ourselves believe otherwise, and so be it."

"So be it," she returned, fighting back tears. The remainder of her people waited up ahead, stalwart and determined. She was ever grateful they were of Halling's heart and mind. And ever more so that Elizabeth had believed they were worth protecting.

She hoped she could return that most precious gift.

--/--

_Twelve Hours Remaining_

Ronon swiped a hand across his face, glancing up at the dreary sky on the world called Caisir. Sheppard was trudging back towards him from a small village located not far from the gate, his hair soaked through and, for once, lying flat on his head. McKay was shaking off his life signs detector, trying not to look irritated, though this much rain would make even Teyla feel annoyed.

"Nothing," the Colonel shouted over the steady pounding of rain on mud. "They've never heard of them."

Ronon swiped at a patch of muddy earth in front of him. Another few hours wasted on planets that had no connection to the Immarians, and no knowledge of Weir's whereabouts.

Nothing.

He grunted.

Sheppard tilted his head, squinting through the rain. "I know, buddy. Believe me, I know."

McKay glanced between them, then opted for the safer option of not inquiring. "What next?"

"Same drill as always," Sheppard's voice ticked up a notch as the wind picked up. "Dial Atlantis and find out where to next."

"Right." Rodney sounded less than enthusiastic, but he didn't complain. Apparently he'd taken Sheppard's words to heart—or was still suffering from the guilt that had driven him to that unusual apology—and outburst on Mineria—earlier. Ronon found no fault in McKay or Sheppard's actions thus far, but he was not so removed from the ties that bound cultures together that he didn't understand their feelings. Though he bore loyalty to Atlantis, it did not compare to the ties that bound him to his own people. The Satedans were few and far between now, but to each of the innocent among them he felt an unwavering loyalty, even those he didn't know.

In a way, he bore the guilt of the fall of Sateda still.

McKay was punching in the sequence for Atlantis. The surface formed with a rush, as it always did; Rodney didn't wait for acknowledgement.

"Zelenka. There was nothing on M22-764. What's next?"

"Ah…" Zelenka paused for a moment. "there's…M50-241."

"Great. Send the coordinates."

"Standby, they are coming."

McKay tapped a few symbols onto his datapad. "Got them. McKay, out."

Sheppard cocked his head to the side. "Ready?"

Rodney nodded in return. Ronon took a deep breath, calming his nerves.

"Right. M50-241, here we come."

--/--

_Eleven Hours Remaining_

The air overhead was incredibly black, and despite the numerous stars in this system, none had the ability to poke through the thick murk of the cloud cover on M14-555.

Carson shuddered from inside the cockpit, glad he wasn't having to pilot through all that mess. The gate was located a few kilometers from the village and journeying to it hadn't required the Jumper to ascend even above the tree line.

Major Hill and his men were hiking back, the flashlights on their P-90's making bright dots in the inky blackness.

"Doctor Beckett," the Major buzzed through the headset. "Prepare for departure."

"I take that to mean we didn't find anything?" he responded.

"No sir. Nothing here."

"Right. We'll be good to go when you return, Major."

Carson concentrated on the HUD, checking the Jumper systems. Everything appeared intact and ready to go for the next world Radek pulled up.

He could only hope it would be the right one.

--/--

Captain Braga held out a hand, gesturing with her fingers. "Let me have the datapad."

Lieutenant Li handed over the tablet, extending the cables first. Braga grasped it, folded herself beneath the dialer and tinkered around for a moment. After a few seconds, the tablet lit up with a string of gate addresses. Li bent down to her.

"Sir, we have data."

"Good. Hand that to me, will ya?" She finagled the tablet to where she could see it, typed a few words, then crawled out from beneath the dialer with datapad and connections all bundled together. "Alright, that should do it."

Tommy stepped over to the dialing console and punched in the characters for Atlantis. The wormhole connected, eliciting a shout of triumph from Robert. They hadn't been so successful at keeping the dialing crystal in place the first few times.

Braga eyed him snidely, then tapped her IDC into the GDO. After a moment, Atlantis hailed the group.

"Yeah, this is Braga. We've got another one, ready to step through."

Atlantis gave them clearance. Braga smiled, holding up the datapad. "Come on, boys. Maybe this one's got the golden ticket on it."

Li puffed out a breath, cast a doubtful glance at Tommy and Robert, and followed her through the gate. As the cool material swallowed away reality, he had a vague, disheartening sense that, in a few moments, they'd have to do this all over again.


	18. Losing Time

_Nine Hours Remaining_

Lieutenant Colonel Jason Davis leaned forward, striking the comm button with his fingertip. "Are we ready to go again?"

"We are in final preparation stages. As I mentioned before, Colonel, the long-range sensors must be recalibrated after every hyperspace leap that has occurred." Hermiod sounded vaguely annoyed, though Davis could never tell if that was because he was at the moment or just was.

"Keep me posted," Davis responded.

"I shall endeavor to do so."

The comm went dead; Davis turned to the pilot, who shrugged.

"Where are we?"

"On the far reaches of Pegasus, sir, near M78-P42."

"Any sign of Wraith activity?"

One of the technicians turned to him. "No sir."

"Well, at least that's one good thing. I don't think Colonel Caldwell would let me step in for him again if I scratched his ship."

"Colonel Davis, we are ready to begin another series of transmissions," Hermiod droned through the comm.

"Thank you. Communications?"

"We have the message ready, Sir."

"Excellent. Begin transmission now."

From the bridge, nothing could be made of the message that was being sent out. But a string of known languages from the Pegasus was floating through the darkness, hailing an alert regarding a race calling themselves Immarians.

"Colonel, the message has again been sent."

"Thank you, Hermiod. Standby for reception."

The crew seemed to slow to a standstill as the bridge went quiet. Only the steady beep-beep of monitoring equipment and the droning of the machines kept the room from being pin drop quiet.

A few minutes passed in silence, then a few more, and a few more. Davis felt his own heartbeat slow as the hope of success faded, and the same melancholy that had occupied the last ten hours of flight settled over the bridge once again.

"We have not received any responding transmissions, Colonel," Hermiod replied after another few minutes. "It would appear that this section of the galaxy has not received the signal. Or has no information to transmit."

"Or can't transmit," responded another tech.

"Well, in either case, this area is a wash. Prepare for another hyperspace leap," Davis returned.

"Would you not like to try once more? It is possible the transmission did not reach all portions of this area," Hermiod suddenly interjected.

The pilot turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Davis himself felt a little odd that the Asgard had questioned his own abilities. "If you'd like, Hermiod, we can send out another transmission."

"It is not a question of what is to like, Colonel, but rather a question of what is prudent."

"Whatever you say. Go ahead and transmit once more."

Silence was the response, and another wave of expectation took hold. Perhaps it was fruitless, but it did not stop the crew from hoping.

--/--

_Seven Hours remaining_

The sensation of feet pounding on stone, of being hunted, flashed through her mind, her heart racing with every breath. There was darkness all around.

"No," she shuddered, her eyes flying open. Everything was fuzzy and semi-lit. "No," Elizabeth repeated again, fingers grasping at the table she was lying on, trying to catch hold of something solid.

"Be still," soothed an Ancient voice from above her. Elizabeth blinked, trying to get her vision to clear.

"You are still under the influence of the healing drug," the voice returned. "You won't have control for another few hours, though your swelling has gone down very much. But your head injury remains severe and requires a few more hours of monitored rest."

"Karon…was here," Elizabeth slurred. Her head felt heavy and she was grasping in vain for a clear thought.

"Yes. I thought perhaps…but it is no matter."

"He's your grandson?"

"He is…something like a grandson," Neela replied cheerily. "Though he is not aware of the exact tie."

"How…how do you have children if you are an Ancient…"

"It's a long story, my dear. One I do not have time to tell. You must rest for a few more hours."

The world was spinning back into blackness. "I don't have time…I'm going to…they're going to…"

"You will not." Neela's voice became firm.

"A few hours. He said…"

"He was mistaken. And he does not understand, not yet. Now rest." She laid a cool hand upon Elizabeth's forehead. "Rest. You need a few more hours sleep, if we are to save you."

"We save each other." Elizabeth murmured, her head falling to the side. "We need each other."

"Who?" Neela's voice echoed from far away.

"John…Rodney…all of them. I need them…"

The world fell away.

--/--

"It had to be a swamp," Rodney muttered, picking up one of his boots. The swamp's bog water smelled and stuck like glue; even Ronon looked uncomfortable. "How about we try for a dry planet next time?"

Sheppard shot him an irritated look, noticed Ronon's expression, and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. You have an issue with this planet, you complain to Zelenka. It was his people—who I guess are technically _your _people—who pulled out the coordinates."

"At least it's not raining. Rather be here than hiking through a downpour," Ronon said.

"Don't mention that, either. My socks are still wet."

"I told you that earlier—always pack a change of socks," Sheppard retorted.

"Well, sorry if I didn't…" Rodney stopped himself. Sheppard was wearing a slight smirk, and it had been a while since Rodney'd seen it. "I'll remember next time."

Sheppard tossed Ronon an appraising smile, then gestured towards a lit area a few paces ahead. "Looks like these people's settlement isn't too far. Maybe a path here."

He was right; a few steps in a wooden-beamed set of bridges started to rise out of the swamp, lit with torches.

"This is better," McKay said. "But if I see any Ewoks around I'm heading straight back for the Stargate."

"Nah, this is too wet for the Ewoks. Yoda, maybe," Sheppard returned, a spark of his traditional humor coming through. Rodney began to feel a little less tense.

"What's an Ewok?" Ronon asked.

"Short, fuzzy things with funny voices." John said softly, eyes to the village now visible in the torchlight.

"Essentially they were bears that carried spears," Rodney joined in.

"Spear carrying bears? You encountered this somewhere?"

"They're from a movie."

Ronon looked less impressed now. "One of those ones you watch on Saturdays?"

"It's _Star_ _Wars_," Sheppard broke in. "Classic, _classic_ film. If you want to talk about how good space cowboy stuff is done, watch the first two. _Star Wars _and _Empire Strikes Back._ That's_ good_ sci-fi."

"Actually, technically it would be 'watch the fourth and fifth' Rodney returned. "And _Star Wars _is a misnomer. Episode IV is actually called _A New Hope._"

Sheppard's eyebrow rose. "Which is stupid. It will forever, by non-geeks the world over, be known as _Star Wars._ And as far as I'm concerned, those so-called prequels don't count."

"Are these those movies with the laser swords?"

"Yep."

"I still want to see if you can build me one of those," Ronon said with a grin.

"Not possible," Rodney said, annoyed. "The requirements for one of those…"

"Hey, we step into a big blue pool of water and rematerialize in other galaxies," Sheppard said. "I would say that pretty much anything is possible."

"I'll remind you that we didn't come up with the Stargate, we just figured out how it worked."

"Then maybe somewhere we'll find light sabers and figure out how to make _them _work."

"So where were these spear-carrying bears?" Ronon questioned. "I don't remember them."

"They were part of third movie. _Return of the Jedi. _I don't think we've watched that one yet, wasn't as good as the first two."

"They're sort of annoying. Used to fling people out of speeders by slinging rocks at their heads. At least, that's how they captured Princess Leia. She got cracked on the skull by…"

Ronon's eyes narrowed; and Rodney only seconds too late realized why. Sheppard's easy gait and laid-back demeanor had vanished, all trace of good humor wiped from his face.

"Sorry, I…" Rodney began, trailing off. Ronon shook his head, and started towards the village again.

"Just keep moving," John snapped, face forward, though that cold tone of command had returned to his voice. People inside the village were stirring at their sudden appearance. "Let's find out what they know."

McKay shrugged apologetically to no one in particular, a familiar sense of pessimism setting in. It's wasn't his fault that even movie discussions could bring them back to reality. Truth was, pretty much every part of their world would revolve around this search sooner or later.

But, in the back of his mind, he knew that any little bit of support they could give each other was very much worth holding on to. And in times like these, forgetting could be the greatest comfort. They needed that.

He paused at the entrance to the village, watching as Sheppard questioned one of the residents, his face an emotionless mask.

They definitely needed it—some much more than others.

--/--

_Six Hours Remaining_

"M17-094 should be your next jump."

Evan shook his head, trying to project some kind of sound over the blizzard they were trudging through. "That's where we are now, Dr. Zelenka! It's an ice planet—nothing but trees and some weird kind of sabre tooth cat!"

"Oh. Right, of course. Then…the next iteration is M25-604. I'm transmitting the dialing coordinates now."

One of Lorne's men nodded as the gate address appeared on his tablet. "We got it!"

"Alright. Good luck, Major." There was a little hesitancy in Zelenka's voice.

Lorne frowned, raising a hand against the biting snow. "Doctor Zelenka, is something wrong?"

There was a pause, and Evan could almost see the wheels in the Czech scientist's head turning, trying to figure out how to answer. "Not really. We…it is nothing you need to concern yourself with. Let us know what you find on M25-604."

"Gotcha. Lorne, out." He turned to the rest of the team, who watched him with bent heads. "Let's dial out of this hellhole."

Rickers shuffled over the dialing console, punching in the symbols on the datapad. Evan watched as the wormhole whooshed into life, glimmering coolly upon the snow.

Zelenka was worried about something. Lorne had a sinking suspicion it was based on the number of viable planets left for them to search. If he didn't know better, he'd say the science team might be running out of places to go.

They certainly were running out of time.

_--/--_

_Five Hours Remaining_

Radek studied the data for the third time, hoping that somehow he'd missed something. His own instincts told him he had not; he was a very thorough researcher, whatever Rodney might rail on about. But perhaps, this time, with so little sleep and so much worry, he might just have.

The program he'd been running beeped at him; he tapped at the return key. As he'd suspected—and feared—the data showed the same results as the previous two times.

"Doctor Zelenka," said Dr. Kusinagi. Her glasses were off, which was a testament to how tired she was. "We have the results of ten more crystals."

"Anything?"

The woman shook her head, eyes deeply shadowed. "No, sir. Even widening the parameters as Doctor McKay suggested, there are no planets which match the requirements."

Radek sighed, removing his own glasses and cleaning them with his shirt. "How many iterations are you in?"

"Three."

"How many of them have been brought back?"

"At this point, only one-hundred and fifty two of a possible thousand."

"_Hovno_," he exclaimed softly. "We are running out of time."

"Doctor Biro and Doctor Carpelli are having the same issues, Doctor Zelenka. There is nothing viable on their data."

"Nor is there on mine," he admitted, turning the pad to where she could see it. "Three hundred and twenty-two. None of them work."

The Japanese scientist frowned. "But there must be one, right? One of them is the correct one? We have just to discover it."

"I am sure. The problem is we have neither the manpower nor the resources to track down every iteration. And our time window is rather limited at this point."

"But…I am sure Mister Richard Woolsey will allow us to continue, won't he? He would not stop the search at this point."

Radek studied her for a moment, then raised a hand to her shoulder. "I am sure he will allow us to continue as long as it remains prudent to do so."

Her face fell, though she did her best to present him with a smile. He watched her go as his own grin faded, reaching for a datapad recently recovered from another of the marine teams dedicated to farming the dialers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his watch face. Five hours left until Mr. Woolsey's arrival.

They really were running out of time.

--/--

They were running out of time.

Neela took a seat on the stool nearest her, letting her body rest. The unique nature of her situation here did not overshadow the most basic human necessities of rest and sustenance. Thankfully, she'd been spared the most dire of the punishments she could have suffered, but it did not alleviate the occasional pang of regret for being sentenced to this fate.

And yet, she suffered nothing compared to what the young woman in her care was suffering. At least her own punishment had been a rational one, given the circumstances.

Here, justice had been blinded.

She glanced over at the motionless form of Elizabeth Weir, dressed now in the dress of the Ancients, sleeping soundly. One side of her face bore an ugly bruise, though nearly all swelling had disappeared thanks to the Ancient remedies left to Neela's care. She was bandaged in a dozen places, and, though she'd been lucid when she first awoke, Neela had not wished to run the risk of leaving a significant head injury untreated.

How it had come to this, she was uncertain. In her time with the Immarians, she had seen bits of the Testament's many laws and rules twisted beyond their true purposes, but overall the people she knew had developed a peaceful community that was functional and sound.

And yet…in the back of her mind she knew that it was more an ancient hope that the experiment had worked, rather than a certainty it had. She had not been unaware of the way power had been lorded over the citizens of Immaria. How, despite the Ancients' readjusting of the social schemes, the people had fallen into a routine that still allowed the strong to abuse the weak. All they had so carefully changed—the planned and logically assigned roles—none of it had mattered, for in the end justice had still been used for personal gains and to personal ends. Abuses had raged out of control, hidden behind subjugated smiles and closed doors—maybe more than would have been had not the rules been so strictly enforced. Ignorance had been encouraged and misunderstanding engendered as sublimation became a daily practice. As Elizabeth Weir had mentioned before, it had become a society of which the Ancients could never, as she had known them, be proud.

Had she not seen it most with Karon? Such a quiet, sensitive boy, one whose quick wit and skills had endeared him to the Council early. Orphaned at a young age, she had taken him in and raised him as a grandchild—which was not far removed from the truth.

She had seen him grow, lauded his accomplishments. Watched with pride as he grew into the legacy of leadership for which he was destined.

And then had come his attachment to Sita, and all the confusion such a relationship engendered. She was talented; she was strong-willed, kind and intelligent. A natural-born leader and a wise advisor.

And Karon had had no ability to understand where she fit.

In Immaria, all her talents were partially wasted, for all she could ever be as a leader was a warrior, risking her life for him and his people. His frustration at being unable to laud her advice, coupled with his fear for her life when she was put in harm's way, tore at his soul. He grew angry, fearful for what his feelings might do to her, and chose the one thing he knew would protect everyone involved—the rules.

Like the men before him, he had shut out the ability to think, to feel, and to choose, and had stubbornly stuck to the path that had led them all here. Now, both he and Sita would suffer for it.

Elizabeth stirred, a groan escaping her lips. Neela pulled herself from the stool, shuffling over to the sleeping woman, and laid a soft hand upon her forehead. She was a little feverish, to be expected with as much injury as she'd sustained.

"What a life you must lead," Neela spoke quietly. "Discoverer and raiser of Atlantis." Karon had described its magnificence; based on his words it was much like the way Neela remembered it so long ago. And now a new race, descended from the very people she walked through the gate with, controlled its halls.

When the Ancients had left the Final Testament for the Immarians, it had been a promise of the return of that great race; a will to allow them the ability to regain control of this land, and so many others. But the Ancients had not survived.

The people of Earth had. And they had lived up to, if not surpassed, the legacy left to the Immarians. It was not the original intent of the Final Testament, but perhaps it was better.

She eyed the equipment monitoring the woman. Just a few more hours, and she'd be able to wake her.

"Wake you," she said, stroking Elizabeth's forehead. "And return you home."

--/--

_Four Hours Remaining_

"I do apologize, Teyla," Norena said. "We have not heard anything, though we have checked with our contacts from around the galaxy. Unfortunately, none of them have heard anything of a race known as Immarians or of Doctor Weir."

"We are, of course, still looking," the Governor added. "Anything we may be able to find out, we will report to Atlantis immediately."

"I thank you," Teyla replied. "And I know the Lantean people will thank you."

"It is the least we can do," he responded, looking demur. "Doctor Weir has been more than kind. We owe our livelihoods to her."

"As do many of us," Halling said.

"At least we can give you this." Norena handed Teyla a small, semi-transparent device. "This is a cloak detector. If there is a field being generated that conceals an object, this device will read the energy field and can pinpoint its location."

"I…do not wish to take this if it is all your people have, Norena."

"Please," the beautiful scientist smiled. "We do not need it—none of the Taranans will be leaving for a while, not at least until our new home is fortified, which, given the underground facilities we've just discovered, may take quite a while. And I do not believe any part of our new world will be shielded for any reason. It is of no use to us. But a race of people who are unknown to the galaxy, but who have ties to the Ancestors, seem to be a people who may employ such devices. In which case, these can only benefit you."

Teyla studied the rectangular object, which looked like a Life Signs Detector, only with a few additional features. "Thank you once again."

"You are welcome. And good luck. We will continue to pray for Doctor Weir's safe return," the Governor said. "Let us hope it shall end for the best."

"Let us hope," Halling returned. "Let us hope."

--/--

There was a distinct warehouse feel to Stargate Command. Richard Woolsey adjusted his suit jacket, yanking the sleeves down to keep his wrists sheltered from the cold.

"Richard," General Hank Landry exclaimed, coming into the gateroom with his usual entourage of marines. "How are you?"

"I've been better," Richard returned, eyeing the gate in front of him with trepidation. "How long do we have?"

"The jumper is scheduled to arrive in about two hours. You should be debriefed and ready to go by then."

"Wonderful," he muttered unenthusiastically. Landry raised an eyebrow, but said no more, motioning him towards the back end of the SGC. "Is there anything you need from us?"

"I don't think so, General, other that what's in the debriefing. Any word on the search?"

Landry's congenial expression faded. "I'm afraid not. I believe they're pulling out all the stops, but there's been no word so far."

"Well, they're not going to like what I have to say." He'd taken a few more steps before he realized Landry had stopped behind him. "Is something the matter?"

"So you are calling off the search?"

Richard frowned. "Believe me, General; if it had been up to me we would have kept looking a few more weeks. But the IOA is insistent that further search efforts will only weaken our position among the Pegasus natives. They do not want to be seen as taking a soft line on this. Especially following the replicator incident."

"No word from the President?"

"Oh, there were words." Landry resumed walking, with Richard the one now struggling to keep up. "Doctor Weir has always been his number one choice for this and he's never backed down from that. But his influence was not enough this time around."

Landry stopped again, eying him. "Tell me this wasn't about politics, Richard. About using an easy excuse to get rid of a thorn in someone's side. That they're working in the best interests of the expedition here."

Richard paused, swallowing. "Politics has never been an issue here; I should make the IOA's stance very clear on that. As you should be well aware, personally, I'm the last person who is interested in seeing Elizabeth Weir stripped of her position. And to be honest, there aren't many in the IOA all that interested in booting her out either. They might call into question some of the choices she makes, but no one disputes her ability to lead or whether she deserves to remain on Atlantis. And quite frankly, who would want to take on her position?"

Landry raised his eyebrows. Richard frowned again. "It was a rhetorical question."

The General relaxed a little, then resumed walking, this time at a more reasonable pace. "Whatever the motive, you know what that call is going to do to the members of the Expedition."

"I'm quite well aware of what Doctor Weir means to most of them. But without any word or any type of demand, we just cannot sanction a needle-in-a-haystack search. There is just too little chance of success and too great a risk in terms of Atlantis's status in the galaxy for the IOA to approve."

"They said the same thing about you and General O'Neill in the replicator situation a few months ago. I don't think I have to remind you that you would have been at the receiving end of a nuclear warhead if not for Sheppard and Elizabeth."

"No, you don't. But unfortunately, it's not my job to debate that point to the IOA."

"Richard, you're their representative here."

"Not anymore," he stopped in front of the briefing room, adjusting his glasses. "In two hours, whether you or I or anyone else likes it or not, I will be the interim leader of the Atlantis expedition. And just as much at the mercy of their decisions as you or Elizabeth."

"You still have the ability to make your own mind up," Landry said softly.

"I'm afraid not in this case, General. And believe me, I am sorry for it," he returned. "But there is nothing more I, or anyone on Atlantis, can do to change their minds."


	19. Three

_Three Hours Remaining_

Stephen glanced across the mass of Earth and Ancient equipment, signaling to Radek Zelenka. The Czech scientist held up a hand in response, checking over the shoulder of one of his team, then made his way through the various lab tables covered in machines, discarded wrappers, mugs and papers.

"Yes, is there something I may help you with, Colonel?"

"Doctor Zelenka…how is it going?"

The scientist paused, his expression disheartened and preceding whatever he was going to reveal. The one thing Stephen liked about Zelenka—more than McKay, anyway—was the scientist's raw frankness. Good or bad, Zelenka told it straight.

This time, he motioned to the Colonel to exit the lab. In the Atlantis hallway, out of earshot of a few marines standing nearby, the scientist crossed his arms. "I am afraid we are running out of options."

"Running out of options? I thought there were an infinite number of possible addresses to analyze. We have teams coming through the gate every five minutes."

"Yes. That, as you may see, is the problem. The more results we take in, the less time we have to study them—and the more data we require. As mentioned earlier, it is possible for the Immarians to have jumped a number of times after their first jump. Once they left Neron, it is impossible to determine exactly where they may have gone. Gathering the dialing crystals from the last planets listed on the Neronian gate—between the time they dialed Atlantis the first time and when we returned—have led to gates that are as active as the one here. And each time we come across gates like that, we must assume that any of the addresses listed on those dialing crystals, or at least the last ten or so, are viable addresses. Analyzing those leads to ten more, and ten more, and so on…"

"But that would mean you are generating new addresses all the time."

"Not necessarily," Zelenka said. "Every new set of addresses a marine team picks may or may not match the parameters established by our research teams. If they do not, then it is possible the Immarians used that world simply to pass through. In the last few hours, we have analyzed hundreds of addresses without any matching the search requirements. We will be even less successful if we narrow the search, and if we expand it to a more general set of parameters, well…"

"Then what would be the point of parameters."

"Exactly. Eventually it would be no different than randomly picking gates anywhere in the galaxy and studying them. This is more and more seeming like, how do you put it? Needle in a haystack. I believe it will be easier to rely upon our allies in the galaxy rather than the addresses off these crystals."

"That doesn't seem promising, either. Every report I've gotten so far has been negative. How many addresses did you say you have studied so far?"

"No where near enough. We are still working two to three iterations deep. That already is thousands of addresses and we have not gathered anything close to that."

"And how many would you need to cover all the bases generally?"

"Logically?" Zelenka raised an eyebrow. "Millions."

"The IOA isn't going to be convinced that's worth the effort and manpower."

"No," Radek's face fell. "I do not believe so either."

Stephen frowned, pausing for a moment. "Well, you did the best you could, Doctor Zelenka. Everyone did. No one questions that. "

"Yes…but, if you do not mind, we will continue working. At least until we are prohibited from doing so. The very next address analyzed may be the one we are searching for."

"Do that." Stephen crossed his arms. "We've still got a couple of hours before Woolsey arrives."

"You are going to continue with the teams as well until he arrives?"

"A needle in a haystack still means a needle is there, Doctor, no matter how big the haystack," Caldwell returned. "But you're right about one thing. We are running out of time."

--/--

Sita dropped her spear by the doorway, and entered the infirmary as quietly as she could. Too quietly, it would seem, for as she approached the old healer, the woman gave a startled leap.

"Stars, child! Don't go sneaking up on people."

"I am sorry. I am afraid it is force of habit."

"Yes." Neela fixed her with a kind smile.

Sita studied the sleeping form of Doctor Weir, who appeared peaceful, though she was still mottled with injuries from Fasir's attack. "Has she spoken yet?"

"Yes. She's a strong one. I have had to sedate her in order to treat her injuries."

"She _is_ strong, for one who does not do battle."

"I believe she would have been a competent and strong soldier—you'd have been eager to have her in your ranks."

"I do not believe she thinks being a warrior is an honorable skill."

"I think she prefers not to fight, if she can help it. But I believe she has every appreciation for your skills and the need for force where necessary. She would not trust so much in her people if she did not."

"I do know she holds a great respect for the man who serves as her military commander. He seems to hold the same for her."

"There is much achieved in the proper balance of diplomacy and strength."

"I am not certain I understand where one begins and the other ends anymore." Sita folded herself into the stool next to the healer. "I wish I could understand as clearly as I once did. Nothing makes sense any longer."

The elder woman laid a hand on her shoulder. "None of this was your fault, Sita."

"It was. I revealed her affliction to them. At the time I believed it would render judgment more fairly. I did not see…"

"That is why this is not your fault. You have a belief in the ways of Immaria, by which you have been blinded, but for which you should not feel guilty. The problem lies not with you, but with the ways of Immaria, which are, quite simply, wrong."

"You have lived here longer and supported our ways more strongly than anyone. How can you feel this way now?"

"I have long felt this way. But so long as the Immarian actions harmed no one but Immarians, I turned a blind eye towards it. Now, however, more are being affected than our people."

She turned back to the woman on the table, a sad expression crossing her face. "And in truth, I have allowed our people to suffer as well. Not just those who are subject to the will of the Council and the Guilds, but all of us. You, for example, Sita, should have had a right to speak like her."

Sita swallowed, feeling uncomfortable. "Neela…"

"No. It is the truth. You are a competent warrior, but you are much better skilled for diplomacy. I know that. The Justices know that, which is why they tolerate your occasional wanderings into the realm of governance. It is why they respect your opinion, just as Karon does."

Her pulse quickened. "Karon has long been my friend. He tolerates me because of that."

"Karon has long felt something much stronger than friendship for you. Surely, you are aware of this."

Sita rose from the stool. "I am sorry, but…"

Neela grabbed her wrist, her fingers powerful. "I know how you feel about him. Be assured he feels the same way. It is why he goes to so much trouble to defend our rules. If he did not, his feelings would get in the way of what he knows is safest for both of you."

"You are mistaken!" Sita replied harshly. Her anger caused Doctor Weir to stir, her face twisting in discomfort. "You are mistaken," she hissed again. "Please, let me go."

"No. You need to face the truth, just as we all must now face the truth. Karon is driven to this…" she gestured towards Doctor Weir's injuries, "because he pretends at something he is not meant to be. Or perhaps he strives for it. Either way, the man you and I cherish is being destroyed and replaced by one who would do this to a person who threatens nothing but change for the better."

"Karon did not hurt her, Neela."

"Did he not?"

The memory of Karon's striking Doctor Weir during her trial flashed through her mind. She'd been appalled; frightened by his anger. She knew the discovery of Atlantis's governance and people had weighed heavily on him; that his knowledge of the Testament had revealed some hidden truth about what his future held. But his anger had been immeasurable in the last few days, and she feared she was losing what little was left of the Karon she'd known before.

It had driven her from Doctor Weir's side; the woman's accusatory looks and truthful words had torn at her heart. But Sita could not bear to believe all she held faith in—all Karon held faith in—was wrong.

And yet here, before her, lay the consequences of her actions. Those feelings had led her to misjudgment; to the punishing of an innocent and a condemnation of death. To turn her back on the chance for a world where everyone could live free of fear of punishment. Where they could speak their mind.

Elizabeth stirred once more. Neela's grip left her wrist as the Healer walked towards the woman, replacing a salve-dipped bandage on her forehead.

Another memory danced through her mind; of Doctor Weir and her military commander—John Sheppard—entering the Atlantis infirmary together days ago, side by side. Doctor Weir had already endured Karon's anger and seemed trepidatious as she prepared to approach them.

A worried expression had crossed Colonel Sheppard's face—he'd barely glanced at Doctor Weir, but even that was enough to alert him of her discomfort. It had concerned him. And in that moment, he'd stepped forward, seizing the authority in the room.

To Sita's surprise, Doctor Weir had not seemed surprised or angry at the action. Though he'd superseded her position, she'd demurred, allowing him to take control.

And she'd been humored by it.

It was as Neela said—balance. A harmony between them; individuals who understood when the other was in need of support or strength. They'd exuded that balance throughout Sita's time in Atlantis, one for the other when it was called for.

She'd never known that. Her world revolved around what was right and wrong, what rules should be followed and what should not be broken. There had been no room for balance. No room for error.

No room for her to share Karon's burdens, or his pain, or his joy. They were two halves split apart by circumstance, unable to meet for fear of what such a meeting might bring. Disorder and disharmony.

She felt envious of Doctor Weir. And now, shame at her own actions. From the beginning, she'd known this was wrong—from the moment Karon had ordered her to strike the Atlantis leader, she'd known he had crossed a line into a place from which she could not retrieve him.

She had lost him, and nearly been lost herself.

Neela looked over at her, her expression deepening into one of concern. "Sita, my dear…"

"No, Neela. It is I who must apologize." Her voice came across groggy and thick; she swiped a hand across damp cheeks. "You are right. Karon and I were both wrong."

The old woman's face softened. "Sita…"

"He has not relented, has he?" she asked, her voice breaking again. Neela's silence answered her question. She set her jaw; attempted to keep it from trembling. "Then he has made his choice. And I must make mine."

"If you go down this path, you face a very great danger."

"I am not afraid," she said, though the words came out shaky. It took her a moment to gather herself, but when she repeated it, strength had returned to her voice. "I am not afraid."

"Of that I am certain. But this may not be a battle you can win. You fight everything that you once fought to defend."

"I should like to fight for what I _believe_ in defending," Sita said. "I would like to fight for balance. And equality. I would like to fight for the right to speak for myself. And for others who cannot speak." She moved forward, gesturing towards the bed. "I would like to fight for her."

"Then do so," Neela smiled, though it faded quickly. "We must all do what we must. What we should have done ages ago."

--/--

"Satisfied this time?" Sheppard snapped, as they exited the Ancient ruins. "Nothing but sand."

McKay said nothing in return, just shook his life signs detector. "Still not picking up anything."

"How did Zelenka end up with this place?" Ronon grumbled, swiping sand from his back. "This isn't anything close to what those people would inhabit."

"Maybe it used to be," Rodney replied, eyes still on his equipment. "Global Warming or something."

If Sheppard had been able to throw McKay a dirty look from behind his sunglasses, he would have. "Global Warming."

For the first time since they'd gated onto this sandy, desert world, the scientist glanced over at them. "Well, what other explanation can you come up with?"

"That Zelenka was wrong," Sheppard barked back. "He was too far off the damn radar!"

"Don't look at me like this is my fault! You were the one who wanted to expand the search parameters!"

"How the hell hard is it to keep the world 'cold' in the equation? We're in the middle of a damn desert, Rodney!"

"Deserts are cold at night!"

"You don't wear _fur_ if you live in a desert!"

"Look," McKay snapped back, looking more like his old self than he had the last twenty-four hours, "for one thing, contrary to what you might believe, science is not perfect one-hundred percent of the time. Sometimes scientists, who happen to be human, by the way, will make mistakes every once in a while. Second, Zelenka has been going at this as long as we have. It's not his fault that the computers screwed up one of the thousands of dialing addresses he's just spent the last ninety-six waking hours analyzing! The man hasn't had any sleep, for god's sake! Cut him some slack!"

Sheppard's expression crunched into a nasty frown, but either he didn't feel like following up the argument, or he was taken back by McKay's rare defense of his fellow scientist. In any case, he backed off, turning instead towards the Stargate. Ronon started forward, following him, as McKay took up the rear, mumbling to himself.

"He's tired," Ronon said to Rodney when they were out of Sheppard's earshot. "And frustrated. He's running out of time."

"Thank you, Sigmund Freud. As it so happens we all are," Rodney retorted. "He's not the only one."

The colonel had dialed the gate by the time they reached it. Chuck greeted them through the radio as Sheppard's IDC was accepted.

"Tell Zelenka we're ready for the next gate address. And to try to aim for a climate that might be a little closer to the tundra than the Sahara."

"Of course, Colonel Sheppard," Zelenka said in a tired voice. McKay was right, the man was exhausted. "I have…"

"Colonel, I need you to step through that gate," Caldwell interrupted.

McKay frowned. "What?"

"I need you to return to Atlantis."

"Have they found something?"

"Unfortunately, no. But there's only three hours left until Woolsey's arrival."

"Well that's great to hear," Sheppard retorted. "Means we have three more hours left to search."

"It means there are three more hours for your teams to search," Caldwell returned. "But I need you here to prepare for the changeover."

"Prepare for the…Colonel Caldwell, no offense, but the last thing I need to be doing right now is pencil pushing."

"I understand your concern, Colonel Sheppard, but it is a part of your duty as the military commander of this base. Woolsey needs to be updated on everything going on with Atlantis right now, and you're the only person who can effectively brief him on what he needs to know. You've had nearly sixteen hours to search; your teams can spare you for the two or three needed to bring Woolsey up to date."

"I am not going to abandon my men or this search to get a bunch of paperwork straight and entertain politicians!"

Ronon frowned. He agreed with Sheppard's sentiment, but there were few times when the Earth commanders did—and confrontations like this usually ended badly. Next to him, McKay looked like he was literally holding his breath.

"Colonel, this isn't a request."

Sheppard's expression tightened as Caldwell's voice took on the hard edge of command. "Look…"

"Sheppard," the senior officer cut him off, "what would Elizabeth want you to do?"

For a second it seemed as though Sheppard might just fire his P-90 straight at the wormhole. Ronon could feel the anger and energy emanating from his friend; it forced his hand up instinctively, towards his pistol.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Sheppard's tension evaporated and he took a breath, making an effort to drop his gun. "On our way," he echoed hollowly a few seconds later.

"Thank you," Caldwell said, as softly as a man of his standing could muster. "We'll be waiting."

Ronon cast his team leader an appraising look. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sheppard returned, moistening his lips. "He's right."

"Doesn't make it easier," Ronon returned, echoing a sentiment earlier expressed.

"You know, we don't have to stop," Rodney said quietly. "I mean Ronon and I. We can still keep looking. Caldwell didn't need us."

"What, just you and me, McKay?" Ronon raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"Aren't you worried for your safety?"

"Should I be?"

Ronon grinned despite himself. "Not unless you start complaining."

Rodney glared at him. "Oh, very funny."

"Okay, then," Sheppard looked hesitant, but accepting. "You two follow Zelenka's next address; let us know what you find."

"Radek," Rodney called out, activating his headset. "You have new coordinates?"

"What?" came the exasperated reply a few moments later. "But…I thought…"

"For me and Ronon."

"Oh…just you and Ronon? By yourselves? Are you sure that is a smart idea?"

"Just send the coordinates!"

"Right, uh, let's see. M2X-351. Another tundra-like planet, known for snowstorms."

"Snowstorms. Great."

Sheppard studied them for a moment, then pulled his sunglasses from his face. His eyes were weary. "You two be careful."

Ronon patted his gun. "Always are."

"Yeah…what he said," McKay echoed. "That thing is still set to kill, right?"

Ronon tossed the scientist a wan look. "You have the address?"

McKay typed a few words on his datapad. "Right here."

"Good. I'll…call you, if we need anything," Sheppard murmured. "Watch his back, please."

"Got it," Rodney and Ronon said simultaneously. John grinned at that, then, with a bowed head, walked through the wormhole, which closed behind him with a whoosh.

They stood, side-by-side, staring at the empty ring.

"You want to know something? This really sucks," McKay said suddenly.

Ronon tried to think of some way to reply, but there was nothing. McKay was right. "Yeah. It does."

--/--

John walked through the wormhole, not bothering to glance around. He knew the expressions they'd wear, the cold, bitter masks of disappointment, fear and defeat that most everyone was feeling.

Out of his periphery he could tell the gateroom was abuzz; a variety of military teams were gathered around, some preparing to leave, others just returning. Scientists flitted between them, perhaps gathering information, perhaps handing them some. Everything felt frantic and rushed, with no order to the chaos.

He pushed through the crowds, only half-acknowledging those of his men who recognized his presence, and broke for the armory.

There was no solace there, either, as various soldiers strapped up gear or ripped it off. He thought he heard Lorne's voice from somewhere across the room, but he didn't bother to look, just unclipped his P-90 and tossed it aside, along with his ancillary weaponry. It was probably better for everyone's health, especially Woolsey's, if he arrived stripped down.

"…el," said a voice from somewhere behind him; he whirled around, nearly knocking into Lorne.

Somewhere along the way, the major had been seriously exposed to sun or seriously exposed to wind, as a burn ran across his nose and one side of his cheek. There was also a long tear across his pant leg that looked, if John wasn't mistaken, like a set of claw marks.

"You need something, Lorne?"

"Sir…" the young man trailed off for a minute.

John frowned. Lorne and his entire team looked beaten; worn down with exhaustion and hunger. "Major…why don't you and the rest of your team head down to the mess, get some R&R?"

"What?" Lorne's eyes widened, as the rest of his men shook their heads in objection. "No! I mean…Sir, Doctor Zelenka's research has slowed down a lot since when we first started. Colonel Caldwell told us to take off a couple of hours, but with all due respect, we want to continue going out there."

He frowned; he hadn't realized Zelenka was hurting for information. That explained the desert, anyway. "And where are you going to go? I know you're eager to be out there looking—believe me—but if Zelenka's running out of gates to dial there's only so much any of us can do. After a while you're going to be blindly tilting at windmills out there."

"We were talking…thinking about revisiting Neron. Just checking the area for anything."

John glanced between the marines. They really did look beaten, worn down, exhausted.

And determined.

He had no right to hold them back. At this particular moment he sure as hell knew how it felt when you were. "Fifteen minutes, be ready to depart. Pick yourself up some MREs in the mess before you head out. And don't worry about Caldwell, I'll talk to him."

"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard."

"No problem, Major. Now get going."

"Yes, sir."

The group departed; making the armory suddenly, and eerily, quiet. John unclasped the last cinch on his TAC vest, shedding it slowly, his grin fading.

It felt heavy in his hands, weighted down with the required protocols for a trip through the gate. All of which had been utterly useless in the past few days.

He hurled it across the armory, watching with satisfaction as it slammed into the wall across the way with a thick, crunching sound. The lockers nearby rattled, objects inside them tipping over, ricocheting through the hollow cabinets.

He might have done the same with his P-90 if the radio hadn't buzzed at that precise moment.

"Colonel Sheppard," droned Caldwell, "have…"

"On my way," he interrupted, not really in the mood for niceties. "Stowing my gear."

The radio cut off and John was glad for it. Caldwell understood when to leave well enough alone, at least. He surveyed the room, envying the teams with empty lockers, then left to do the last thing in the universe he wanted.


	20. Two

_Two Hours Remaining_

A cool hand startled her. Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking away a fuzzy ceiling until it solidified into a mosaic of dark tiles, Lantean by design.

"Time to wake," Neela said softly, removing her hand.

She assisted Elizabeth up. Surprisingly, she felt clear-headed, though her body still ached, especially her ribs. But her headache was gone.

"I managed to reduce the swelling significantly, and the remedy I gave you helped your head. But your physical body will still feel the effects of the injury it sustained when Fasir attacked you."

"What difference is it going to make, honestly?" she asked, pulling tentatively to her feet.

"If you wish to escape? A great deal."

"Escape?" Elizabeth raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Even if I were to find my way out of the Circle, outside the world is covered in frost and snow. I'd have no supplies and no way of contacting my people. I'd never survive."

"You would not need to," said a voice to her left. Sita emerged from a doorway, carrying her spear. "There is a portal inside the entryway, similar to the Stargate. It serves as a passageway to the gate on this planet."

"A portal?"

"Yes. The Stargate is halfway across the planet from here. To access it easily, we must use the portal."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Elizabeth murmured. "An automatic portal? Without a wormhole?"

"Not quite," Neela returned. "In actuality it is a beaming platform that orbits this planet. It was an Ancient technology developed by the Alterans. One that was not terribly successful in its early test runs, but it was quite functional here."

"How would you know that?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously. "Unless you really are…"

"Old," Neela said. "Now, hurry. It is only a few hours until dawn. They will come to claim you then."

"I still don't know how to get to this portal. Won't I have to go through the city?"

"You are dressed as every other citizen of Immaria who is not a warrior," Sita replied, motioning to her Ancient-like dress. "Most will not question your presence. I will get you to the Halls of Judgment, and from there you must cut across through the village to the entrance. Once inside the cave, look to your left, opposite the entrance to the outside. You will see a small inset of stone and to the left of that, a panel. If you touch these three symbols," she pressed a piece of parchment into Elizabeth's hand, "it will engage the portal and open it to the area where the Stargate stands."

"Why are you doing this?" Elizabeth asked, studying the parchment for a moment and then raising her eyes to the young warrior. "Why now?"

"I should have assisted you long before this. But now…Doctor Weir, I did not lie to you on Atlantis when I said the city was a fulfillment of promises. But I did not speak the whole truth. Atlantis was not just a fulfillment of promises, it was…"

"The future of your world," Elizabeth finished softly. "I understand that, Sita. I know it was difficult to accept for your people. I read the Final Testament."

The young girl smiled. "I never have. I have never even seen it. But I should like to. I should like to have permission to. Being who you are—seeing what you share with those you trust—I would like to know that world, very, very much."

"I believe you would be very good at that, Sita. And very much like my friend Teyla. She is both a warrior and a wise leader of her people, and she does both jobs well. I know you would, too."

"You must hurry," Neela said. "It will take you a little while to work your way back towards the Halls of Justice. They will come for you soon."

Sita nodded once, then arched her head towards a door in the far end of the room. "Quickly. This way."

--/--

Eiron liked the dark best. It made concealment much easier, and was much more akin to the training he'd had in the Underground. The uniforms of the Genii had been designed for this, and they hardly stood out amongst the darkly shadowed trees, despite the full moon.

The four of them darted forward, towards the small settlement that lay a few hundred metres to the southwest. They'd noticed the radio interference almost immediately, but had disregarded the traditional dial-in to alert Home. This was a world that had been scouted before, according to General Radim, so it had no need of additional reinforcements.

Commander Sora led the group, darting quickly towards the lit settlement, her breath coming in quick, puffed clouds. Taurun was at her elbow as always, and Lira followed in their wake, keeping an eye on the path behind.

They shimmied down into the village, checking around for signs of recent, unusual activity. There were none, though two sets of footprints were heavily trod between the settlement and the Gate. More than likely the Lanteans; come to check on the area first touched by their contact with the warrior race that had kidnapped their leader.

General Radim had been concerned about her capture and despite protests from many, had requisitioned all strike teams for search purposes. Commander Sora had seemed displeased with the orders, but there was a begrudging acceptance of them, perhaps because the Lanteans had once allowed her freedom where she had seemingly not earned it. Of Doctor Weir, at least, she did not speak ill.

Of the worlds with which the Genii were aware, none held a race such as the Immarians. But Neron was familiar to them, and it was Sora who had first requested clearance to scout the snow-covered lands for signs of travel. She believed firmly that many things were connected more deeply than first appeared, and that perhaps the Immarians had a reason for being on Neron that extended beyond trade, particularly as they seemed to trade with no one else.

The Lanteans had interrogated the people heavily with no result, and the Genii had found nothing on their first trip to the village. Which was why Commander Sora had elected a night strike on the leadership's home—to discover if there was more that was being hidden.

They paced quietly into the village now, their boots barely crunching over the snow covered paths. The leader's house was ahead, with only one window lit, though smoke poured from the chimney.

Sora stopped them, motioning Eiron and Lira to the back. He slithered quickly around the house to the rear entrance, peering at the crudely constructed lock. It was easily maneuverable. He nodded to Lira, who signaled Taurun. The subsequent signal was to move on twenty.

He'd disabled the lock at precisely the same time as Sora; they entered back and front equally, startling the village leader out of the warm and sleepy stupor of his rocking chair. Taurun's hand was over the leader's mouth before he could make a sound, and Lira ensured the same of the wife from the bedroom.

"Portos," Sora whispered, keeping her voice low. As far as Eiron knew there were no children in the house, but no chancing waking anyone who might sound an alarm. "We need to speak with you."

"What have I done?" he whispered back, his voice trembling.

"I do not know. But you will tell me. Everything you know about the Immarians."

"I know nothing!"

Eiron glanced at Lira, who motioned towards a shiny device attached to the fireplace. No wood was crackling in the hearth, as might be expected. But the fire was roaring nonetheless, heated by a technology much more advanced than this society could have developed. Based on his limited experience, the device looked like one created by the Ancestors.

Sora had seen it as well. She smiled coolly, the grin not touching her eyes. "I think you know quite a lot, Portos. Let's start with how nice it must be to have heat which is automatic in a climate such as this. Then, we can discuss who would be kind enough to hand you such a device. And whether your silence in matters such as kidnapping and assault are worth the price of such comfort."


	21. One

_One Hour Remaining_

Elizabeth leaned back against the pillar, her ribs aching fiercely. Sweat beaded across her forehead and dampened the Ancient clothing she wore, adding a little to their weight.

Sita turned, looking barely winded, then dodged forward into the darkness, checking the path ahead.

Three times already they'd had to duck into corners and shadows to avoid passing Immarian council members. Sita's training and skill was not unlike that of the marines, and she handled every near miss with care and control, never allowing them to panic but always being cautious and alert.

Neela had told them she would hold off allowing anyone to enter the Halls of Healing until dawn, meaning they had at least an hour's head-start on search parties. Sita had known that guards were posted at the entrance to the Halls of Trust, which meant they'd have to take the long way around—all the way through the Inner Circle to the Halls of Judgment, out the door and through the central village, to where the exit lay. It had seemed easy enough, a slow, quick walk, but with each group of Immarians who forced them into hiding, getting there became a more desperate action.

They'd just passed the Halls of Testament; through the open archway Elizabeth could see the first signs of faint colored light fanning out across the top of the Stone circle.

"We do not have much time," Sita said, echoing her thoughts.

"The Halls of Judgment aren't far—this is the way I ran the last time," Elizabeth said.

"No, but there will be more people there now, awaiting news on your judgment. We will have to be very cautious. As soon as word of your escape is released, I believe they will clear away long enough for you to make it through the village. But it will have to be quick."

"Quick and dirty—that's how John would want it," Elizabeth said, holding a palm to her ribs. "Just tell me where to go."

Sita nodded, turning an ear towards the dark hallway. After a moment, she padded off down the semi-lit hall, Elizabeth trailing in her wake.

_--/--_

Stephen frowned as the vortex whorled into life, an unfamiliar anxiousness in his blood. He felt a bit off kilter, as though he were losing control, despite being barely in control on Atlantis. People were still working hard on research, exploration and search and rescue, but all of them seemed on their last legs.

The last time he'd checked on Zelenka, the Czech doctor appeared to be falling asleep standing up. His team was weary, their faces hollow and dark-eyed in the dim light of their computer screens. But Radek had shaken his head and shooed him away, determined to keep going until Woolsey arrived and he was forced to stop.

Which wasn't too far from now.

Radio contact with the Daedalus, deep in space and still jumping to broadcast their SOS transmission, had filled Stephen with wistfulness at not being at the helm of his ship. A bitterly ironic feeling, considering how not but two years earlier he'd made a serious run at being Atlantis's military leader until Elizabeth had stonewalled the SGC's efforts. Considering what the last few days of command had wrought, he didn't wonder if Providence hadn't played a part in that. Of course, the circumstances would have been different—but if this was what Elizabeth encountered whenever her people were put in harm's way, Stephen almost felt like Sheppard could keep it.

The lieutenant colonel had also disappeared; after being offered Doctor Weir's office to do his work—to which he'd barked a quick and harsh 'no thanks'—he'd retreated away from the control center. Stephen figured he was holed up in a dark room somewhere, moodily going over non-existent notes. Sheppard was, despite his talents, terrible at organization and even worse at paperwork. Truthfully, Stephen had called him back to allow him time to mentally prep for Woolsey's arrival, because a wound-up, hot-off-the-search Sheppard benefitted no one.

Chuck turned to him as the SGC finally acknowledged the Atlantis code and General Landry's face popped up on the vid screen. He didn't even have to ask the question; it was obvious based on the expressions of the Expedition personnel what the final report would be.

"Richard Woolsey is slated to depart from here in approximately thirty minutes, Colonel," he said instead.

Stephen nodded. "Understood. Thank you, General. We'll be ready for him."

The General hesitated, then leaned in a little. "No word?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Landry's own disappointment was palpable. "Too bad. We'll dial you up when he's ready; it'll be a thirty-minute ride through Midway."

"We'll be waiting. Thank you."

"Thank you, Stephen. And don't give up hope." Landry smiled a little. "Atlantis has a habit of executing miracles at the eleventh hour. Maybe they'll keep it up."

"If they did, it truly would be a miracle," Stephen returned. "But I'm not one to question that, either. Atlantis, out."

--/--

Lorne tuned down the radio set in his ear, wincing. Neron's weird interfering frequency played hell with the headsets, and even being here for the third time, he kept forgetting to account for it.

The air felt a little colder, though on this planet the difference seemed negligible at best. It was just plain freezing.

The group tromped towards the village. In the pre-dawn light, it looked peaceful, almost like a Thomas Kinkade painting. Though he'd probably keep that observation to himself; he wasn't sure how many of his men would appreciate the comparison.

Or let him live it down.

He didn't know what he hoped to find; his gut told him there may have been something they missed but his training told him they'd been thorough. Maybe it was the thought of stopping, as Colonel Caldwell had suggested, that drove him to do something. Quitting was not in his DNA. Especially quitting on Doctor Weir. He'd seen her risk everything, down to the wire, to save her people a number of times, and it would never sit well with him if he'd not done the same for her. Not until someone gave him no other choice. He was glad his team felt the same way, though of course they would—they'd all had the privilege of working for her, escorting her off-world, being smiled at and spoken to and lauded by her. They'd all known her kindness in the infirmary privately and her public recognition of them for various actions they'd performed.

Whether she was the acting head of Atlantis or just Doctor Weir, she'd always found the time to treat all her expedition members with respect and gentility. He'd never felt like working on Atlantis was a duty for him with her and Colonel Sheppard at the helm; instead, it was a privilege he was lucky to enjoy. It was what drove him now to keep on searching, as he was certain it drove his men.

That and the fact that none of them liked to see their CO broken and stripped to the core, but that was where Colonel Sheppard was headed, if his attitude in the armory was any indication. All of them were feeling it, but he knew, based on the Colonel's rapport with Doctor Weir, that this was harder for him than it was for anyone else.

Light was starting to break through the trees. He hunched forward a little more, sheltering his neck from the cold.

Reyes, who was up ahead, suddenly paused; P-90 raised, and jerked his head towards the tree line. Lorne studied it for a moment, bringing the rest of the team to a halt with his fist.

Something was moving between them—just a slight movement, but enough to be unnatural. Instantly the safeties were off, and the group moved forward as a unit.

"Come out," he shouted, his voice coming out rough in the cold air. "We won't hurt you."

Whatever had been moving earlier had paused, trying to disappear into the shadow of the trees, but it was no use.

"I said come out!" Evan repeated.

"You will not wish to hold us up, Lantean," replied a soft female voice. From the break of the trees emerged a slender young redhead, pretty enough to turn more than one of the marines' heads.

He recognized the uniform, though, and if he wasn't mistaken, this particular young woman had a history with Atlantis. "You're Genii."

Three more people emerged from the trees, also dressed in Genii uniforms. "We are delivering a message to our leader, Ladon Radim," she said, her face twisted into a displeased pout. "You will not wish to hold us up."

"And why is that…uh…"

"You may address me as Sora."

"And why is that, Sora?"

"Because we have news of your leader, Doctor Weir."

Evan nearly came out of his protective stance. "What do you mean you have news? Do you know something?"

For the first time, Sora's expression lightened into something like a smile. "I believe we know enough. Now let us report to our leader, so he may report to yours. And I promise we'll share everything with you that you shall need to find her."


	22. Dawn

_Dawn_

It wasn't much further to the archway out of the Halls of Justice, but Elizabeth and Sita had found themselves trapped behind the courtroom, their escape route blocked by a small crowd of loyal citizens.

"Is my death that interesting?" Elizabeth whispered.

Sita turned to her, her expression sad. "Apparently. As we have never executed anyone, I imagine it would be of great interest to many."

"That is truly a shame."

"Yes," the girl said in a slightly broken tone. Karon's figure had been the first recognizable one among the milling patrons. "I believe we have come to a point from which we cannot return. I can only hope your safe escape will cause many to rethink their actions."

"I've been involved in too many negotiations where the easy solution led to nothing more than a return to status quo. If you want your society changed, Sita, someone or something will need to force a change and take action."

The girl stared at her for a moment, but said nothing more. The group around the courtroom paused as a fleet-footed warrior came into the area, whispering something to one of the men. A murmur went up through the group, and they all exited after the warrior.

"Your absence has been discovered. Come," Sita moved slowly forward, keeping an ear on the sound of the retreating footsteps and voices.

They followed the voices down the hallway carefully, leaving plenty of space between them and the men by hanging in the shadows. By the time they reached the entrance to the Halls of Justice, the figures had disappeared through the archway into the light.

Just beyond the doorway, members of the village were moving in the opposite direction, towards the Halls of Trust, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about. The pathway to the exit appeared clear, but as Elizabeth darted forward Sita yanked her back, pulling her away.

Warriors emerged from around the huts of the village, scouting the area. They worked a path around the outside first, searching for signs of footfalls. Checking that she had not yet left.

"What now?" she hissed as inaudibly as possible. Sita looked wide-eyed for a moment, at a loss for the first time since they'd left Neela's infirmary.

The pause gave Elizabeth enough time to think. She shuttled the young woman towards the stairway she'd seen when she'd first entered.

"I can hide up here—they won't think I've made it this far. You join them; don't let them know you're helping me. I'll try to make it out on my own; if you get the chance come back and check to see if I've made it."

"But where will you hide? They will look everywhere!"

"I don't think everywhere." Elizabeth motioned towards the doorway at the top.

Sita's eyes grew round. "You cannot go in there! That is the Hall of the Elders!"

Elizabeth made a face. "What are they going to do as punishment if I do? I've learned that in this place nothing is quite what it seems, Sita. And that I'm going to have to follow my own rules if I want to survive. Now, go. There's no point in risking both of our lives."

"But I promised…"

"Go!" She shoved the girl aside, wincing. "That's not a request." She paused as Sita watched her ascend the stairs, looking disheartened, and felt a pang of regret. She stepped gingerly back down the steps, laying a hand on the young girl's shoulder. "You've done everything you can to help me. But their finding us both is only going to waste your chance to make a difference. If you want to truly change things, then survive—survive, and fight to make it happen."

The young warrior took a breath, meeting her gaze with an earnest one of her own. Elizabeth smiled encouragingly, a small hope for the future flaring up inside her.

Sita nodded, stepped away, and without a second glance tore off down the hall into the darkness.

Elizabeth struggled back up the last few steps, leaning her weight against the heavy stone door. It budged after a few moments concerted effort, causing a wave of pain to course through her already taxed body, but allowing enough space for her to squeeze through.

She could hear the padding of the warriors' footsteps as they entered the Halls of Justice, but they didn't concern her.

What lay before her was far more interesting.

--/--

Rodney glanced up at the Control Room area, scanning for any sign of change since his last return to Atlantis. The state of things being status quo from when he left eighteen hours earlier did not improve his mood, which at this point was a strange mix of exhaustion, anger and sadness.

Ronon shook his head, blowing out a breath. His demeanor seemed to perk up slightly as Teyla, dressed in her Athosian travelling outfit, neared them, though her own face was shadowed with despair.

"Ronon, Rodney," she said softly, though it appeared she could think of nothing more to add.

"Teyla," he returned.

Ronon crossed his arms. "Any news?"

If possible, her expression tightened. "I am afraid not."

"Sheppard?"

She gave a little toss of her head. "I believe Colonel Sheppard is now out on the balcony. We have less than thirty minutes before Mr. Woolsey's expected arrival."

"Where's Zelenka?" Rodney asked.

"He remains in his lab, examining crystals. Colonel Caldwell has appraised him of what the IOC intends when they arrive, but he refuses to stop working until they tell him so. He has been very resilient."

A smile flitted across Rodney's face. "Yeah. So, the IOA has made a call on the search?"

"General Landry informed Colonel Caldwell when he dialed up to announce Mr. Woolsey's departure. Apparently the IOA will not support a full search and rescue." She cast her eyes down for a moment. Ronon reached a hand over, placing it on her shoulder. His touch seemed to give her some comfort. "Mr. Woolsey will officially end the search upon his arrival."

"I'm sorry," Ronon said softly. If Rodney wasn't mistaken, his usual caveman grunt bore a touch of sadness.

"As am I," Teyla replied. "I just wish…"

"We all do," said the Satedan. "There is nothing to regret."

Rodney swallowed, keeping silent. For him, there was plenty to regret. Or there would be. Right now he existed in the vague comfort of a world muddled with nothingness and uncertainty. No official decisions had been made, so there was still time, and yet, let's be honest; there was no more time at all.

He sighed, trying not to think of what the next thirty minutes would bring. "I'm gonna go check on Zelenka," he whispered, trying to keep his expression emotionless. "Maybe he's got something."

By the looks on Teyla and Ronon's faces, they weren't buying his work-or-die attitude. But they didn't say as much.

"Good luck, Rodney."

"Yeah. Thanks." He cast them a final look, then headed down the hallway to the science labs. "We'll need it."

--/--

Elizabeth was certain that if Rodney McKay had been with her, he would have exploded into more excitement than the proverbial kid in the candy shop.

The lab spread out before her was larger than any on Atlantis, and held equipment that was beyond even her experience with Ancient Tech. Tucked into every corner was crystal-run technology, quite obviously powered by ZPMs, though she could see none of the power sources in the room.

Most prominent amongst the tech were a series of capsules, five total, which sat in the center of the room. They almost looked like stasis chambers, except for one small detail.

They were empty.

She moved near the console facing the capsule, looking for something familiar. As with most of the Ancients' technologies, there weren't any instruction manuals, but there were a series of characters laid out on a dialer-like board.

She hesitated for a moment. If there was something dangerous tied to this room, she could be setting herself up.

But what exactly did she have to lose?

She punched a glyph.

After a moment, the capsules in front of her lit with a blue glow; a deep, droning sound accompanying them. In the one at the end, a light beam fizzled into existence, slowly forming into a solid, if holographic, image of a person.

She gasped, recognizing the image from her trial. It was the same young man called upon to spout the liturgy of the Testament, the one who'd proven Thorvir's point. He was saying something different this time—about the sanctity of roles within society—but it was with the same voice and same appearance.

Elizabeth quickly punched another glyph. In one of the other chambers a female with blond hair lit up, speaking of training techniques.

A third revealed another man, older, who spoke on the ways of teaching Testament rules.

She sat back as all the characters went through their various dialogues, amazement on her face. As their lectures died away she tried pressing two glyphs in sequence, and found they changed the lessons. After trying a few more combinations it became clear that pretty much every issue that ever needed to be addressed in Immaria could be addressed through some combination of glyphs in this system.

"So your Ancients are computer programs," she murmured, as the various people died away into nothingness. A training system, not unlike the one in Atlantis's library. But somehow, the Justices had convinced the people of Immaria that these holograms were their 'Elders' and that they owed them unquestioned allegiance.

She bet there was some kind of technology tied to remotes that allowed these holograms to be activated anywhere in the Circle of Stones, educating or scaring the unknowing members of the Immarian society. Another benefit of keeping the people within this small city-space.

For centuries—or even millennia, perhaps—hundreds of men had passed down the secret of this room to their sons, grandsons and successors. Generations of lies used to dominate and control, and keep people in their place.

It was beyond believable.

Elizabeth slapped another character, as if to prove that this was something she was really seeing. Another female figure appeared; this one with dark, long hair and light eyes.

'_Healing,_' she began, '_is a delicate art, one which requires special care…_'

There was something familiar about her. Elizabeth moved closer as the girl continued to speak in a flat, scholarly tone. Her face bore none of the lines or haggardness of her elderly counterpart, but the accent made it very clear.

Neela!

Within that face, too, especially in the tilt of the eyes, there was a trace of someone else. Elizabeth swallowed, realizing that, somehow, Neela was genetically connected to Karon. She hadn't just adopted him; he was her descendent somehow.

Elizabeth raised a hand to her mouth. The curious part of her wanted to return to Neela, to question her as to how this was possible; how she had connection to a system that had obviously been put into place hundreds of years ago. Who Karon was to her and how it was possible she was still here. Was she an Ascended? Or were these more than just hologram capsules—were they also stasis chambers?

But the more pressing and relevant fact was that she didn't have time to question her. Right now her best hope was in following Sita's plan and trying to make it through the village and to the gateway that would take her back to Atlantis. Neela's situation may be interesting, but her own desire for home, safety and comfort outweighed everything else.

She stepped away from the panel and slipped back through the heavy doors, keeping a watchful eye out on the chamber below her. Her hiding place had served its purpose and more—no one was there, and there were no sounds of voices.

The corridor towards the exit was empty; she tiptoed towards it, barely peering around the corner and out into the village.

Warriors still swarmed around the huts as the rest of the Immarian citizens watched, vaguely interested. A few were checking in homes and sheds.

Two guards had been posted by the archway leading out of the Ring. She frowned; Sita hadn't foreseen this, though both of them should have thought of it, it was so obvious.

There was only one way left to go—and maybe her decision about Neela had been made for her.

She backed into the darkness, moving at a quick clip towards the trial chamber and the inner corridor that would lead her back to the Halls of Records—and the Halls of Truth.

--/--

The air outside was cold; it happened on Lantea from time to time. John had no idea how the weather worked here; being the planet was composed of so much water, it didn't exactly have easily predicable weather patterns, even if there were some well trained meteorologists on staff.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the cool breeze blowing across the balcony to soothe his face. When the darkness took over, the exhaustion suddenly sank in and he gripped the railing tighter, struggling to stay upright. He quickly opened his eyes, concentrating on the gray sky in front of him. There was no time for exhaustion—not now.

But it didn't matter anymore, did it? They had nothing.

_Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. _How he _hated _that word.

He could still see, clearly, every aspect of the gateroom from a few days ago. The sound of the gate symbols racing around the ring; his own footsteps echoing down the grand staircase. He could smell the pellet smoke as it escaped from the capsules; see the shadow of one limber, quick form smash her way through twenty marines. He could see Elizabeth's face, watching the tall warrior, her green eyes widening as the girl raised her club above her face. Every single second as it ticked by, as she fell, unfolding on the ground, blood seeping around her head. And their bastard leader as he bent down, dragging her across the floor, through the gate.

Rodney told him it wasn't his fault. So did Teyla. He knew they wouldn't blame him. He knew Elizabeth wouldn't blame him. But they didn't understand how it worked. He was in charge. He made the calls, especially regarding the safety of the expedition. Everything that happened to any one of them, directly or indirectly, came back to him in the end.

If he lost a marine, a crew member, a scientist—they were all the same in one respect. They were lives lost, even if everything had been done by the book, even if there was no way to see or prevent it. It was a still a life, extinguished, and someone, somewhere had to shoulder the burden.

The thing was, as much as he'd tried to take that all on himself, Elizabeth never really let him. She so often circumvented his guilt by making it a part of her own. As military commander of Atlantis, he should have borne that responsibility without question, alone. But she'd never let him.

From the beginning of the expedition, when she'd ignored the advice of his military superiors and demanded he be allowed to come, she always been there, supporting him in one way or another, refusing to let him bear the full weight of loss or suffer the blame for it. She'd made it her burden, too. Always together, never alone.

But now…

John released the railing, his eyes wandering to the ocean, which blurred into a blue-gray vista.

Nothing.

That was what it was. Absolutely nothing. Just an emptiness—far greater and more lonely than anything he'd felt before.

--/--

Stephen paced through the control center, rolling his thumb between his fingers. The gate activity had not yet ceased, though he was going to have to stop outgoing transmissions to allow for Woolsey to dial in from Midway. There wasn't much he could do about the remaining teams dialing in, but they'd have to work with what they could.

"Unscheduled…" Chuck glanced up from the dialer, shrugging. Six hours previous Stephen had told him to stop announcing the incoming activations as unscheduled, as they were pretty much _all_ unscheduled. "Another one coming in."

The gate shield went up; annoying, but a necessary precaution, even with this many teams coming in. Chuck moved to punch the shield button, then frowned. "Sir, the IDC isn't from one of our teams."

"Who is it?"

"The Genii homeworld," the young technician said with a surprised expression. "They're transmitting a communications signal."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Patch them through."

Eyes in the control room turned to one of the vid screens on the wall; after a few minutes the face of Ladon Radim flashed across it, smiling broadly. "Hello…Colonel Caldwell, is it?"

"We see you, Mr. Radim, and as you are well aware we're in the middle of something here. What is it we can you help you with?"

"Actually, Colonel, it's something I can help you with. Though I believe you'll want Colonel Sheppard with you before you hear it."

"I don't have time for games, Radim. What do you want?"

"I'm not a fan of games either, Colonel Caldwell. I only advise you to get Colonel Sheppard because I know how much it'll mean to him when I tell him I've found out the name of the planet where they're holding your leader."


	23. The Beginning of the End

Rodney had just made it to Zelenka's lab—a change of clothes and a Powerbar later—when his headset buzzed. The Czech scientist also reacted to the sound, raising his head and yawning.

"What? Kinda busy here!"

"Doctor McKay?" That was one of the control room techs. "We've just received an incoming transmission…"

"Yes, yes, yes, Woolsey's here. Tell him I'll see him down in my labs." If Woolsey was going to stop them, he was going to have to do so personally.

"Uh, no…si…uh, Doctor. It's from the Genii."

"The Genii? What do they want with me?"

"They say," the tech swallowed, sounding a little flabbergasted. "They say they have information as to Doctor Weir's whereabouts. Colonel Caldwell thought perhaps you'd want to hear it."

Zelenka's eyes drifted to his, his expression surprised. Rodney stared back for a moment, an uncharacteristic sense of hope coursing through him. "Tell him we'll be up there in a second."

--/--

Teyla raised a hand to her mouth, holding back a yawn. Taking a few moments to rest revealed just how tired she truly was.

Ronon emerged from the armory, sporting a new tunic. She had not yet changed; she would await a return to her quarters after Mr. Woolsey's arrival.

"What now?" he asked, ever impatient.

She smiled at him. "We should probably return to the control area to await news of the arrival of the jumper from the Midway station."

He made a face. "Right."

She turned towards the hall leading to the control room when the transporter opened, revealing Rodney and Doctor Zelenka. Both she and Ronon stared in surprise as the scientists bolted from the doors, racing towards the gateroom.

The last time she remembered Rodney moving as quickly he was being chased by a man-eating creature.

Ronon returned her inquiring glance for half a second, then tore off down the hall behind him, Teyla in his wake.

--/--

The first signs of dawn had broken across the horizon when the door slid open. John didn't bother to turn; whoever it was, he had no interest in speaking with them, especially as it more than likely indicated Woolsey had arrived.

"Colonel?" Chuck called from the archway. He paused, waiting for a response. "Colonel Sheppard."

John inclined his head a little, indicating he'd heard him.

"We have an incoming transmission." The kid's voice sounded way too excited for Woolsey.

"From who?" John turned, glanced at him. Chuck was literally bouncing on his toes, if that were possible.

"The Genii."

John frowned. "Radim? What does he…?"

The young technician's grin broadened. "They say…they believe they may have a clue as to the whereabouts of Doctor Weir."

It took John exactly two seconds to find his way to the control console where Ladon Radim's face was being broadcast via an analog signal. Caldwell had already approved the transmission and was standing nearby, though it seemed he'd had the courtesy to wait for John to arrive.

"Radim?" John said as Teyla, Ronon, Zelenka and Rodney made their way into the control room, the latter puffing hard.

"Colonel Sheppard," the Genii leader returned. "Normally I would preface this with a few words about the Genii and trust, but I know this is far too important to you for that. The planet of the people who took Doctor Weir isn't known as Immaria. Apparently, they call their society Immarian, but they actually share a planet with another race, and it is that race for whom the planet is known."

"Well, who…" Rodney started, but Ladon didn't allow him to finish.

"The world you're looking is Neron."

A collective gasp went up through the group. "That's impossible," John choked out after a few shocked moments. "We've been to Neron. Questioned them dozens of times."

Ladon's expression was resolute. "The team who briefed us did mention this. One of our strike teams decided to scout it again."

"But…they claimed to know nothing about the Immarians other than as traders," Rodney added. "They seemed as surprised as us they'd taken Elizabeth."

"They probably were," Ladon said simply. "The Neronians do not associate with the Immarians. From what my intelligence has been able to ascertain, the Immarians live on the other side of the planet from the Neronians and the gate, in a special circle of stones that conceal them from prying eyes. The only contact the societies do maintain is a bargain—in exchange for anonymity, the Immarians allow the Neronians the luxury of a few of their technological items. As you must know, it's extremely cold on Neron."

"They were well insulated from the climate," Teyla observed quietly, with a sideways glance at John. "Their homes were warm, and their people living quite comfortably for such a rustic society. I would not have considered it before."

"We sent jumpers around that planet, though, didn't we?" Caldwell noted. "How would we miss a complete society, even if it was well concealed?"

"If they had a cloak, we would," Rodney said hurriedly, his mind apparently spinning with the possibilities. "Or if they had a shield similar to the one on the planet of the Sanctuary." He looked over a John, who frowned despite himself. "Of course that one was very large and easily spotted from over head, so if the Immarians have something similar it would have to be much smaller. Anyways, either one would allow them to appear to be nothing more than a small blip of natural rock or cliffs on a flyby."

"And is there a way to detect that 'blip', Doctor McKay?"

"Sure…if we had a scanner of some kind that picked up the EM field emitted by a cloak—or maybe…"

"A cloak detector?" Teyla murmured.

Rodney froze, eyeing her. "Yes, if we had something like that, which we…"

The Athosian withdrew a small device from her travelling pouch. "We were given this by the Taranans. Norena said it was a device used to detect cloaks created by Ancient technology."

"Norena? The hot…" Rodney cleared his throat as Caldwell made a face. "I mean, their head scientist?"

Teyla's expression was bemused. "Yes, she expressed a desire to help with this search but as they had no manpower to contribute she presented us with this device."

Zelenka was reaching for it as Rodney snatched it away. Despite his obvious exhaustion, the Czech managed an annoyed glance at McKay. "Did she give any indication as to the range of this device?"

"It doesn't matter," Rodney interrupted, before Teyla could respond. "Even if it's limited range, it'll still be able to pick up a pretty good signal from something concealing a settlement or city."

"Across an entire planet, Rodney?" Zelenka returned. "You will not be searching limited square kilometers."

"I am aware of that, thank you," snapped McKay, flipping the device over in his hands. "All we'd have to do is boost the signal somehow—and as with much of the Taranan equipment this has Ancient derivation. See, all we'd have to do is attach this to some kind of power source…maybe a generator, if we connect it through…"

"Point is we can find them, right?" John asked, his heart pounding excitedly.

"Absolutely," Rodney returned, looking much more enthusiastic than he had in days. "Just a few modifications and we should be able to do it with a Jumper. Would be able to catch a sense of something on a flyby. Theoretically we could pick up their signal in a matter of minutes."

On the other side of the galaxy, Ladon smiled into his camera. "It sounds like you now have everything you need."

John turned back to the Genii leader, feeling more than a little awkward. "Uh…thank you."

If Ladon felt as though he'd one-upped them, he didn't show it. His smile appeared sincere. "You're welcome. If you need any more assistance, please let me know. We'd be glad to send a strike force through to help you."

"I think this is one we're going to handle on our own."

"Of course." Ladon fixed him with a serious expression. "Best of luck, Colonel Sheppard. I hope you will find Doctor Weir safe and well."

"Thanks," he responded, allowing Ladon to sign off first. When the screen had gone dark, John didn't even have to make a move.

"I need two battalions assembled ASAP," Caldwell barked. "We gate through in ten minutes. Dial up Neron."

"Now, sir?" Chuck murmured. "But we're expecting a call from the Midway station any minute."

"Right now."

John paused. "What about Woolsey? You just gonna leave him sitting there?"

"Not forever." Caldwell turned to face him, smiling slightly. "But an extra hour or so of waiting isn't going to kill him. Go and get her back, Colonel Sheppard. You let me worry about Woolsey."

John returned his smile with a saucy grin. "Yes, sir." He, and the rest of his team, bolted for the stairway.

Ten minutes, and maybe, just maybe, they could start to put an end to this nightmare.

--/--

Elizabeth moved slowly, blood pounding in her ears, feeling her way along the sides of the dimly lit hall. She'd been moving back up the tunnels, pulling into the shadows every few minutes, whenever she thought she'd heard the sound of footsteps. Minutes were turning into hours, and eventually the warriors would realize that there was no way for her to escape—and there was only one area in which she could be.

Trapped, like a rat in a maze.

It was excruciating.

She'd made it past the Testament room, but now she was in the halls Sita had guided her through earlier, and with which she was less familiar. Every bend in the corridor had heart racing in suspense, anticipating that next set of footfalls that would mark the end of the chase.

Ahead glimmered a golden glow; the lamps here shone with more of a yellow tint. If she wasn't mistaken the Halls of Healing would be around the corner, with the warrior guild just a few feet beyond.

She moved to the corner, holding her breath to ease the ache, and peered around a column.

As she'd feared, another handful of warriors milled around in front of the hall, keeping watch. Two of them appeared to be standing guard at the door, seeming to be keeping something—or rather, someone—in.

Neela.

One of those pacing the area in front of the building paused and turned, her red hair swinging about her face.

Dravan, if she remembered correctly. The warrior who had downed almost two dozen marines.

Elizabeth backed up against the column, not allowing herself to breathe, and sidled back down the corridor as quickly as she could, away from the light. When the glimmer had faded around the bend, she turned, tiptoeing forward into the darker part of the hall.

There was an echo of something to her right; she turned, glancing down into the darkness, a whimper in her throat. To the left, another sound, this one much closer.

She dodged into a crevice, almost completely sheltered from the scant light that found its way into the path. Fear shook her and she slid to the floor, cradling her knees to her chest and stifling a gasp as the motion sent a sharp pain up her middle.

The calls came, louder this time, from both sides. It was impossible to tell how her hiding place would handle the light of a torch. She pulled her legs closer to her, biting her lip to stop it from trembling, fighting away the fright.


	24. Immaria

_Sorry for the long delay…some family issues and a broken laptop delayed my publishing of these chapters and my ability to respond to the kind reviews. But I thank you for still reading, despite the slowed progress. I can safely promise that the story will be resolved very shortly. _

Stephen stared at the empty pool of the Stargate, watching as the last of the Neron teams flew their jumper through the gate. In a few moments, they'd have to shut the gate down, and allow Woolsey's jumper to pass through.

Until he got a report from Sheppard, he wasn't that eager to let the IOA representative on Atlantis, in the rare instance that he ordered an automatic cease and desist for all search activities.

Stephen had been a military man all his life; proud of his position and his duty. In his younger days he'd run afoul of a few superiors, but most of those incidents had been par for the course with young soldiers.

He'd never attempted insubordination as Sheppard had, and he didn't intend ever to do so.

If Woolsey showed up and ordered him directly to contact and pull back all the teams, though, he wasn't sure what his decision would be. This might be the last shot for anyone to recover Elizabeth Weir and Stephen knew more than just her safety hinged on her return.

There was also a small feeling, deep inside him, that hoped to see her safe and well for reasons beyond her importance to Atlantis. He'd missed their chess matches.

"Colonel Caldwell," Chuck said from the dialer, "the team is through."

Stephen sighed. "Might as well shut it down."

"Colonel…perhaps…" Caldwell glanced down at the wiry gate technician, who looked a little timid in speaking up.

"What is it?"

"I know that this might..._delay_…Mr. Woolsey for a little while longer, but I believe the _Daedalus_ was scheduled to venture into the part of the galaxy where Neron is. If they were there…"

"They would be a great help to Colonel Sheppard and his team," Stephen said with a smile. "Good thinking. Research their last known location. Shut down the gate when you have the gate closest to them and dial it up."

"Yes, sir," Chuck murmured, his tone indicating he'd known quite well exactly what the order would be.

--/--

Richard Woolsey checked his watch; from what Landry had indicated the travel time through Midway was supposed to be around thirty minutes.

Yet here they were, stuck, as they had been for the last forty minutes in a half-finished version of what he assumed would be an impressive station when it was completed.

"Any word?" he sniped at the pilot, a young marine in his twenties.

As if to answer the pilot punched up the Atlantis dialing sequence, which failed to engage. "No sir," he said, turning and looking apologetic.

"What could be the hold up?"

The young man's lower lip jutted out. "My best guess, sir, is that they've either dialed out or someone is dialing in. It has been very busy on Atlantis, with all the search teams."

"But they know we're coming. Colonel Caldwell should have stopped outgoing traffic, at least, for a little while. And there can't be so much incoming traffic that it holds up everything for more than a few minutes at a time."

"I apologize, Mr. Woolsey," the marine returned. "But until we connect there's not much we can do but wait and be patient."

Richard made a face. "Patient. Of course."

--/--

Colonel Davis turned to his navigator. "How far out are we?"

"Not too far, sir. With the hyperdrive we can be there in a matter of minutes."

"Hermiod?"

"I have already made the proper adjustments, Colonel Davis. We are prepared to jump whenever you deem it necessary."

Davis grinned. "Sounds like we're ready to go, Colonel Caldwell. Sorry you can't be here, but it's good to hear your voice, sir."

"Good," Caldwell returned, sounding unmoved and as stern as ever. "Go ahead and get out there. They'll need your back-up."

"Yes sir. We'll contact Colonel Sheppard the moment we hit orbit."

"Good luck."

The com shut off, and Davis nodded at the pilot. "Initiate hyperdrive. Let's go get ourselves back a doctor."

--/--

From above, Neron looked much like the evergreen forests of Earth, though in this case, a wintertime setting. Everything was covered in snow or frost, with only one small portion of the planet free of the cold.

It was a pretty vista, but one John would not have noticed had it not been for the need to scan everything in sight for something that would serve as an Immarian settlement.

From the co-pilot's seat, Rodney leaned forward, tinkering with the device the Taranans had given Teyla. "Just a few adjustments here…" he snapped shut a small lid on the side of the device, and it lit up with a bright blue glow. "There."

The HUD rose in front of them, providing a schematic of the land in front of them. Despite the adjustments, nothing stood out as being cloaked—providing the device was working properly.

"Rodney…"

"I know, I know," the scientist muttered, tinkering with it again. "I'm working on it." He made a few adjustments, then gazed back up at the HUD. "It appears to be working properly."

"Norena mentioned the range was not very large," Teyla spoke up from behind them. "Perhaps it is not strong enough, even with Doctor McKay's adjustments, to sense a cloak from this altitude."

"Drawing any closer to the surface would take hours to search," John returned. "And we don't have hours."

"Any word from the other teams?" Ronon asked.

John shook his head. "They're not seeing anything. This damn interference is playing hell with communications, too. I didn't think it would affect things this high."

As if to prove his point, a garbled transmission rang through the jumper. "…ard…no…si…nort…ide".

McKay looked over at him as he responded. "Major Lorne?"

"Ye…ir."

"We're barely making you out."

"..at? You…r…break…up. We…ound…ing…north…de…"

"I believe he is trying to say there is nothing on the northern side of this part of the planet," Teyla returned. The three stared at her in surprise as she shrugged.

"Copy that," John said. "Sort of. Head south."

"…es, sir…"

"What the hell is causing this?" he muttered as the transmission broke away. "Could it be the cloak?"

Rodney frowned. "Possible, but unlikely. If it was emitting a significant amount of EM energy, but it would have to be a significant amount."

"Or it could be a jamming signal," spoke a smooth voice through the com. "Emitted from a small satellite positioned over the planet."

John glanced at McKay, who shrugged. "Okay…and you would know this how?"

"Because we're staring at it, sir."

"Who is this?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Jason Davis, sir, on board the _Daedalus_."

That brought a small smile. "Colonel Davis, welcome to the party. How'd you get here so fast?"

"Thank you, Colonel. We were in the area. Colonel Caldwell dialed us up to let us know what was going on."

"So what is this satellite you're referring to, Colonel?"

"It is apparently of Ancient design, Doctor McKay," broke in Hermiod. "From what I have observed, it possesses both a transmitter for a jamming signal as well as beaming capabilities not unlike those installed on board this ship."

"Asgard beaming technology? Here?"

"It is not quite of the same design, Colonel Sheppard, but I believe it is similar in purpose."

"Why the hell would there be a satellite with beaming technology orbiting the planet?"

"The gate," Rodney replied almost immediately. "If they don't live near the village they don't live anywhere near the gate. To be able to get there…"

"…they'd have to have quick access."

"Which explains the beaming. It must get them from their settlement to the gate almost instantaneously."

"Is there any way to trace that? Detect where they're beaming from?"

"It may be possible, Colonel Sheppard," Hermiod spoke, before Rodney could reply. "Allow me to calibrate the sensors and detect the position of the beaming device in relation to the planet's surface."

Rodney frowned in consternation, but allowed the Asgard a few moments' peace. John held his breath, feeling jittery.

"I am sending you the data now," Hermiod responded after a few minutes. Almost immediately, the HUD lit up with latitude and longitude coordinates.

"That's not too far from here," Rodney said, motioning forward. John didn't bother to wait for more explanation; the jumper shot forward in response as Rodney processed the exact location and calibrated his cloak detecting device.

Teyla and Ronon both rose as a small anomaly emerged from the landscape—a bare patch of hill that stood out amidst the snow-covered landscape. Rodney tinkered with his gadget again and the HUD flared up with a series of bright flashes. "That's it. That whole area is cloaked."

John grinned. "Colonel Davis, tell Hermiod thanks. We got it."

"We'll relay the message to the other jumpers, Colonel, and let them know your location."

"I have also disabled the jamming signal, Colonel Sheppard. You should be able to communicate with the rest of your team members shortly. I should warn you—the beaming device is interfering with our own ability to transmit a transport beam. I may be able to disable it within a matter of time, but we will not be able to transport anyone to our ship from the ground until I can determine what is affecting our signal."

"Got it. Thanks again." John shut off the com and the jumper spiraled down towards the unusual rise. As they neared the landscape, the air around the jumper shimmered, a huge circle of stones suddenly popping up before them. The jumper pulled into a sharp stop, with Teyla and Ronon buffeting themselves against the backrests of the chairs and Rodney propelling forward, face-first into the console.

"Thanks," he muttered as he pulled his nose from the dash. "A broken nose is exactly what I needed heading into a fight."

"Well at least you have a matching set of body parts," John sniped as the jumper came to a stop, leaping from his seat.

Ronon slapped the back of his shoulder. "Makes you look more threatening. Come on."

The doors of the jumper opened far too slowly for John, who inched out as soon as there was space big enough, P-90 raised. Around them the landscape was pretty bare, save for a few tents that seemed uninhabited. He stalked through them cautiously, eyeing the huge stone cliffs that towered above them. The cliffs were situated a couple hundred feet in front of them through a patch of fir trees.

"This does not appear to be the living area," Teyla remarked.

"Hey." Ronon emerged from one of the tents, carrying a bowl filled with cloths. "Boot marks in here, hard soled and soft. Both female. Looks like someone was kept here recently."

"Kept here?"

"My best guess?" Ronon glanced around. "This is where they keep prisoners."

"As in a prison system?" asked Rodney.

"Looks like."

"Well, that's pretty stupid. Why would they do that? It's completely open. You could escape in like a second!"

"In this weather, Rodney?" John gestured around at the snow covering the ground. "You wouldn't survive more than a couple of hours in these conditions."

"Especially if you were injured." Ronon held up one of the cloths.

John felt something in his gut clench as he observed the red staining them. "Elizabeth?"

"Unless they had more than one prisoner." Ronon nodded towards the north and the cliffs. "Tracks from the tent lead up there."

Teyla was ahead of them, trailing the path from the tent. John and the rest hiked up the hill through the trees, carefully observant.

She paused about ten feet from the cliff face. "I believe there is something here."

As they neared her, she gestured to the trail leading up to the stone wall. "The path appears to ends quite abruptly."

Rodney peered at the wall, until he was almost swollen-nose to rock. "This thing's emitting energy."

"What…the wall?"

"Yeah." He waved in front of it. "I think this is like that door on…well, you know."

"Got it. How do we get in? I'm not too thrilled with the idea of getting trapped again."

"I don't think it works like that. They're not teaching anyone to Ascend—I presume, anyway—so it should just work like a door. In and out."

Teyla tapped the wall with her P-90. "But this does not have an entrance as on the Sanctuary. There, the energy field allowed us through simply by touching the wall."

"It must have a switch somewhere," McKay returned.

"Here." Ronon tapped lightly with his gun at a section of the wall a few feet down from where they were standing.

"How did you find that?"

"It's worn," he gestured. "Dirtier than the rest of the wall."

"Oh."

"Well then," John said, motioning to the switch. "Shall we?"

Rodney made a face, looking at him timidly. "Perhaps we should wait for backup?"

Before John could respond, a few jumpers emerged through the Immarian cloak. "Going to start the party without us, sir?" Lorne's voice broke into their headsets, sounding eager—and thankfully clear.

"Wouldn't think of it, Major," John returned with a small smile. Ronon nudged the worn area of wall with his elbow, gun at the ready. The section of the cliff side they were facing shimmered and disappeared into a watery portal.

Rodney grimaced. "That looks unpleasantly familiar."

"Let's hope it's not." John turned as Lorne trooped up the hill, leading a battalion of marines. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, sir," the young marine said, a broad smile on his face.

"Right." John turned towards the portal. "Let's go get our leader back."

He stepped forward, P-90 raised and ready, and walked through.

--/--

Richard Woolsey waited patiently as the doors to the jumper flared open, trying to ignore the uncomfortable stiffness in his knees.

He was greeted by the careworn face of Colonel Stephen Caldwell, flanked by two marines, in the Atlantis jumper bay.

"Colonel," he said as he moved forward into the open space, grimacing at the added weight on his joints.

"Welcome, Mister Woolsey," said Caldwell, breaking into step with him. "I trust your journey through Midway was pleasant."

"Other than an hour-long delay, yes, everything was fine."

"I apologize for that. There was…"

Richard turned to face him a few feet from the stairs. "Please, Colonel, don't apologize. I assure you I am fully aware of the measures that have been taken for the search. But as I'm sure General Landry has informed you, the IOA has decided on an alternative course of action."

"We are aware of that and fully ready to comply with the IOA's demands," Caldwell returned. As usual the Colonel guarded his emotions and opinions very carefully, revealing no indication as to his true feelings on the matter.

"Good." Woolsey started down the stairs, pausing at the entrance to the control room. "Have the teams been recalled yet?"

"Most of them have received word that they need to return to Atlantis. There are only two or three still out there."

"Feel free to recall them at your leisure."

"Yes, well," Caldwell moved closer to him, lowering his voice, "there's one more lead we're checking out. Colonel Sheppard's following up this one. I think if you'd let them investigate it thoroughly, it might help."

Richard stared at him for a moment, then cast a glance around the control room. He was greeted by the tired, emotionally worn faces of a crew of technicians and scientists. Even Caldwell looked a little beaten down.

"Fine. We'll officially terminate the search when they dial in with their results." He glanced back at Caldwell. "After that, there's nothing more I can do. I am sorry."

"I understand." A small hint of a smiled played around Caldwell's lips. "And I think they'll be able to accept that."

--/--

They hadn't come.

For whatever reason, providence or some other small luck, neither search party had made its way far enough into the hall to find her hiding spot. Elizabeth uncurled herself, took a few shallow breaths to ease some of the pain, and pulled to her feet.

A dim light still shone down the hall towards the Halls of Truth; either keeping Neela contained or guarding a valuable exit. Whatever the case was, she couldn't return to question Neela or find a way out there.

Her only choice was to backtrack.

Again.

She pushed forward, feeling little more than a pawn in a game of chess. Backwards and forwards, fear guiding every step. She was doing what she could to survive, to keep some form of hope alive, but honestly, it was feeling more and more like a waste of time and energy.

Elizabeth wasn't used to being defeatist, and somewhere in the back of her head John Sheppard was shouting at her not to give up, and to keep fighting, because that's what he would do.

But she wasn't John Sheppard; she never had been. Her way worked with his, but that was why it worked. Because she'd relied on him and he'd relied on her and together they made their way through whatever came their way.

But he wasn't here now.

She shook her head, swallowing a bitter smile. The least she could do was keep moving, and debate her fate with herself along the way.


	25. Hold Tight

_A/N: Thank you all for being patient. Here's a chapter that hopefully will reward some of that patience. :)_

The first part had been easy.

There had only been two guards when they'd made their way through the portal—a small cave area, and McKay had been right, it looked like the sanctuary planet—and beyond that a village in a clearing. Two female guards appeared to be standing watch, but they had their backs to the entranceway and were quickly taken out by Ronon's gun.

He'd kept the gun set to stun; a brief discussion with Teyla had reminded him that while he'd love nothing better than to take out a few of the Immarian soldiers, female or no, most of the villages might be peasants unaware of what their soldiers were doing off-world.

Despite Sheppard's eagerness Ronon insisted on moving ahead, if only because his team leader was wearing an expression he'd never really seen before. There was something buried in Sheppard's eyes; an intensity that unsettled Ronon and reminded him of the stories of Sheppard taking out sixty Genii on his own without blinking an eye. Only Weir and McKay knew anything of that and neither of them talked about it. Ronon knew Sheppard's strengths, but most of the time he was so laidback and easygoing it was easy to forget there was a reason this man was the head of the Atlantis military and a legend among his soldiers.

It seemed a smart move, because no sooner had the warriors fallen than Sheppard and Lorne's team brushed past them, as though taking them out has always been a part of the plan. The rest of the marines followed.

The soldiers at least knew the difference between offenders and innocents, for as they moved into the village that was housed in the center of the ring, no shots were fired. A general cry rose from the people inhabiting it, many who darted into tents and shanties; others broke for large archways to the left and right of the village marked in the language of the Ancestors.

"Truth and Justice," McKay murmured, apparently referring to the writing above the doors. "How poetically ironic."

"Fan out," Sheppard said, indicating teams towards the archways. Lorne moved to the left, while another of the soldiers led a group to the right. Sheppard glanced over at him and Teyla. "Stay with McKay; question the people here and see if they know where Elizabeth is. First indication, you radio me. Watch your back."

Ronon nodded. Sheppard nodded back, looking up through expressionless eyes. "And Ronon? Do what you have to do."

He and the rest of his group started forward, towards the archway set to the back of the circle. Teyla watched them go, her own face without expression, then turned to some of the cowering villagers who'd gathered near a fire pit. That surprised Ronon as well—he fully expected her to protest the seemingly dangerous path Sheppard was taking. But she seemed content to let him have his way; or perhaps, somewhere deep within her generally peaceful soul, existed someone who could seek vengeance if necessity called for it.

McKay was also watching Sheppard as he and the marines strode forward, fanning out in perfect marching order.

"You think he meant that?" Ronon asked.

McKay glanced over at him, tapping idly at the life-signs detector in his hand, a half-frown on his face. There was something in his expression, too, that indicated this wasn't the first time he'd encountered something like this. Maybe rumors of those sixty Genii were true. "Yeah. He meant it."

Ronon switched the setting on his gun.

--/--

Elizabeth paused at the archway exiting the Halls of Record, leaning against the stone wall, one arm carefully wrapped around her aching middle. Her forehead brushed the cool surface, and she struggled to maintain calm, to find something positive to hang onto.

Across the way, a few hundred feet beyond the village, lay the portal. Guarded by a community of common people and a few guards.

Home.

She had few options left. She could keep running; hope that the guards had already searched the Halls of Justice thoroughly, and return to her and Sita's original plan—through the archway, out the door. Which meant she'd have to keep hiding, scared animal moving from hole to hole and shadow to shadow until she found a way to wriggle free.

Or she could do something she'd not done since being dragged to this world. She could stand up and face them, toe to toe, with dignity and authority and the will to do right. She could take her official place as the leader who was proclaimed in the Testament, the one they were legally bound to follow.

It wouldn't be successful. She was more than sure of that. Honor and dignity did not supersede bias and bigotry; nor would they protect her from false judgments or the power of those who'd made them. They could not save her from death.

But at this point, what could? She had nowhere to run, nowhere to go. As much as she was certain Atlantis had tried to find her, they had failed. She was going to lose her life in this place.

If she accepted that, then, by God, she was going to do something worth the value of it.

It was time to act in a way that would not make her ashamed of herself. That would make her people proud. Elizabeth Weir had been through wars, had survived Wraith attacks and replicators infestations. She'd negotiated treaties and stood face to face with leaders that would quite literally eat her alive. She had not given up when everything seemed hopeless and she never backed down from a challenge.

That was how _she_ fought. It was not with weapons or with the same kind of honor and courage that John, his team or his marines fought with. But it was a battle nonetheless, one that had to be won with words, with the changing of minds.

If she believed in that system at all, then she would have to do what John would do—stand up to monster and fight with every last weapon she had. Go down fighting, even if it meant sacrificing herself in the process.

At this particular moment, exhausted, head pounding, with ribs aching and a heart that felt like stone, it was much easier said than done. She wouldn't be truthful with herself if she didn't admit this one of the most frightening moments she'd ever had to face.

She needed to find the courage to face it.

_One step at a time, Elizabeth._

Her legs felt like lead, but she took a step forward, into the open air of the meadow. This would be no easy task, but she was determined to face it as the leader of a city as great as Atlantis would.

--/--

Sita drew near the group of warriors headed by Dravan, attempting to keep her expression neutral.

Aska, one of the fastest of the young warriors, entered the Guild Hall. "She has not been spotted anywhere near the village. We believe she may be hiding somewhere within the Circle."

"This is as we hoped," Dravan said. "Ilonti, take four of your team and cross the field to Justice. Check all the crevices within the circle. I will follow the same path here. Do you approve of this, Sita?" she turned, her green eyes piercing.

"Yes. This is wise," she returned.

Dravan eyed her for a minute, then dismissed Ilonti's team. Sita watched them go, her heart pounding. If Doctor Weir had not remained in the Hall of Elders, she would very shortly be in great danger.

"Sita, are you alright?" Dravan asked, coming up to her. "You seem distracted."

"I am bothered by all of this," she confessed truthfully. "It does not feel right."

"Not feel right? She broke our laws."

"And for this we condemn her to death? How is this our law?"

Dravan frowned. "I will admit it is unorthodox. But we must do what we must to protect our people."

"I fail to see how executing one weak woman protects our people," Sita snapped. "She threatens no one."

"Our council has willed this," returned Dravan. "I am a warrior. It is not my place to question this—nor, will I remind you, is it yours. Take care, Sita, that you do not cross boundaries from which you cannot return."

Sita watched her go, catching sight of Karon as he stood near the entrance to the Guild Hall. He looked distracted, his arms crossed, waiting for her to exit.

She took in a breath, marching towards him with fluttering in her stomach. He smiled briefly. "Dravan seems confident."

"She believes the Lantean to be somewhere within the Circle. It may only be a matter of time before she is caught."

"She is not Lantean," he returned harshly. "She is not worthy of being called such."

Sita met his gaze for a moment, her heart sinking. "I must go."

He reached out and grasped her arm as she walked past. "Do you not agree with me?"

She did not turn to face him, but pulled her arm gently from his grasp. "No, Karon, I do not agree with you."

"Why not?"

"Because I do not believe death is necessary. Not in this case."

"You know why this must happen."

"I do not." She raised her eyes to him. "I have seen death in my lifetime, Karon. Much more than you. I have caused it. For me, there is never a good reason for death, only a necessary one. And here, it is not necessary. In truth, if we hail from the Alterans as we claim, it should never be necessary by our own judgments."

"If we do not execute her, she…"

"What? Will threaten what we are? What we believe? And so what if she does? Is this the kind of world in which you wish to live? One where our elders snuff out life as easily as they snuff out a flame? What happens tomorrow when one of our people breaks the lesser rules? Do we execute them as well?"

He frowned. "Sita…"

"No." She set her spear to the ground, facing him. "No. For too long have I seen the iniquities of our society overlooked. Too many times have I defended our ways to people of intelligence and means. Too often I have held my tongue when I knew what was being done was wrong."

"It is not your place to speak on such things."

"Perhaps not," she said. "But maybe—perhaps—it should be."

"This is her doing!" Karon stepped back, his face twisted in a hateful grimace. "She has made you think this way."

Sita stepped up to him, placing a hand on his arm, a gesture she had always used to calm him. "No. No, Karon. Doctor Weir challenged our ways, yes. But it has been you—your treatment of her—that has opened my eyes. If I have lost you to the ways of the Testament, then I shall fight to ensure those who come behind you shall not suffer the same fate. No matter what the cost."

He stared at her in surprise, the dark expression fading into one of concern. "Cost? What cost?"

She turned from him once more. "I must go."

"Sita?" He reached out, grabbing her arms, forcing her to turn back to face him. He was surprisingly strong. "What are you speaking of?"

When she didn't answer his grip loosened a bit, his hands shaking. "You know where she is, do you not?"

"I…I am not certain."

"But you have assisted her." The grip tightened again, forcing her to turn back to him. The expression on her face was enough to inform him of the truth, he knew her so well. "What have you done? They will kill you for this!"

With a swift, graceful motion she broke his grasp, nearly knocking him to the floor. As he regained his footing, she drew to her full height, which exceeded his. "If it must be, then it must be."

He must have seen the intent in her eyes, for his expression grew soft, almost pleading. "Please…do not do this."

She smiled softly at him. "It is time I do what I believe to be right. What is good for all, which is what I believe the intention for our Testament has always been. If its ways have been corrupted, then they must be changed. So that we may have hope for the future."

"Sita…"

"Goodbye, Karon."

He held a hand towards her, moving to speak, when a high-pitched whistle trilled through the corridors. It was followed by five short bursts.

Something had raised an alarum.

The time had come.

She turned from him, refusing to look back, and rushed towards the exit. Their fates were fully distanced now and they would never again meet in this world as it was.

--/--

Elizabeth had only taken a few steps into the meadow when the first screams ripped through the air.

They came from the village, startling her, and she paused, pulse racing, as people exited the sides, bolting for the archways that promised the comfort of the Inner Circle. In response, a series of whistles echoed through the halls within the Circle.

After a few moments, she could see what had caused the uproar.

Black-clad figures were pushing out from the center of the village. Above her, faces peered from the lodgings set into the walls, moving onto high stone steps and ledges, trying to figure out what was causing the commotion.

The figures moved closer, fanning out towards the three archways set into the circle of stones, methodically observing their surroundings. Elizabeth took a small step back, uncertain of what to do. They didn't look Immarian, and yet they were most certainly warriors; everything about their demeanor suggested they were primed for a fight.

The lead figure was stalking towards her, head bent. She took another step back as a wind blew down through the field, stirring the grass and whipping around the man approaching her. The breeze ruffled up his jet-black hair, which glimmered for a moment in the sunshine and managed to maintain an unkempt appearance, even when the wind died down.

A distant memory of a conversation on the balcony, what seemed like ages ago.

_I never could get it to behave. Stopped trying. Even the Air Force had to accept it, though believe me they tried everything short of shellacking._

Her breath caught.

He hadn't stopped walking towards her and as he drew near everything came into brighter focus—the black BDU's, the tactical vest strapped to his chest, the P-90 clutched close to face level. The slow, methodical approach he and all the men took, drilled into them through hours of training sessions, some of which she'd overseen.

Her eyes were suddenly burning, her vision blurring until he became an indistinct mess of colors. She blinked the tears away hurriedly, not wanting to lose sight of him and stepped forward into the meadow, taking one step, and then another, and then another, until her legs carried her forward at a full run, stabbing pains and all.

He paused as she approached him, eyes narrowing for a moment as he shouted out a warning. Her better senses told her to stop; that he'd only need a moment to recognize her, but she was afraid of what would happen if she did. This was too close to everything she'd been wishing for days; too much like the dreams she had in the cold confines of this frozen world night after night. Stopping might mean an end to all the hope she had left.

The tense expression faded as she drew closer, his eyes widening, mouth dropping open ever so slightly. Something escaped his lips that resembled her name but all she could focus on was how close he was and how real he seemed.

He seemed to recognize it too, because, for the first time since she'd known him, John Sheppard dropped his guard and his gun, rising out of his defensive posture to move forward, reaching out as she drew near him. Elizabeth stumbled the last few feet, falling into him and nearly knocking him over, ignoring the blinding pain that shot through her body as he wrapped his arms around her.

Her arms closed around his neck and she struggled to breathe, realizing, finally, that he really was there, that he was real and she wasn't imagining this. Elizabeth Weir had trained herself not to show weakness—not to cry—but something between a sigh and a sob escaped her lips at this moment.

John tightened his grip as everything she'd built up, all the strength and determination she'd worked so hard to preserve, suddenly escaped her. Her legs gave out, body trembling with a mixture of anxiety and pain. He eased her to the ground gently, using his arm to support her.

"Elizabeth?" she heard him say, and she opened her eyes, looking up into John's face, which, despite the disturbing dark circles and five o'clock shadow, glowed at her in relief.

"John…" She raised a tentative hand toward his face, barely brushing the edge of his chin with her fingertips. "You look…terrible."

His relieved grin grew, eyes suddenly sparkling. "Well, not everyone can come charging in on a white horse wearing puffed velvet. You're going to have to settle for a wrinkled uniform and a P-90."

"I'll take it," she whispered back.

"Good." His smile faded as he studied her, eyes narrowing at the purple bruising along the side of her cheek. She could read the intensity in his face; feel the anger tighten the muscles in his arms, though she knew he was trying to maintain control in front of her. "Are you okay?"

She set her jaw, trying to keep her lips from trembling. His eyes tightened, and she felt her face crumple just a little. "No," she managed softly.

John watched her for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable, then bent forward, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Elizabeth relaxed against his shoulder as he awkwardly patted her hair and repeated something she'd heard him say only one time before.

"Don't worry. You will be."


	26. Gather

Ronon glanced over at the Immarian nearest him, tossing the guy a not-so-friendly look. The man returned the look quizzically, then moved on, towards one of the huts in the center.

McKay passed by him, staring at the man's retreating figure for a moment. "I swear these people have no sense of self-preservation."

Ronon shrugged, glancing over to where Teyla stood with another group of female villagers, talking amicably. "Maybe it depends on who you're talking to."

"If you _want_ to talk to them," McKay mumbled, fidgeting with his P-90. "I, for one…"

Whatever he was going to complain about was cut off by a shout from the open field to their north. The marines Sheppard had sent to explore the area were moving in towards the center now, many of them double-timing it towards Sheppard's central position.

McKay frowned, standing on tiptoes to get a better look at what they were running towards. Ronon squinted into the distance, just barely able to make out Sheppard's lithe form, turning back towards the village.

And he wasn't alone.

McKay must have picked up on it at the same time, because he let out a sort of strangled half-cry and took off towards the outskirts of the settlement at a speed that surprised even Ronon, who did his best to keep up.

He could make out the figure now, though he knew instinctively if Sheppard was walking with his defenses down, there was only one person it could be.

"Elizabeth!" McKay shouted, almost bouncing across the grass. "My…"

Ronon grabbed his shoulder, nearly knocking him over as he pulled him to a dead stop.

"What the…hey! What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

Ronon nodded towards the high archways set into the massive stone circle that surrounded the meadow. From each of the three entrances, Immarian warriors were rushing out, spears and clubs in hand, moving to encircle the small group of marines in the center.

The marines immediately set into defensive position, their P-90s out and pointed at the approaching Immarians. Ronon frowned, trying to figure out the best line of attack. The meadow was open and wide, and the warriors would see him coming, even as he tried to skirt around the outside.

McKay had stopped, but was studying the warriors with chagrin. "They can't really think they're going to get anywhere against a bunch of armed marines."

"They did last time."

"Well, last time they had the element of surprise. This time, I'd say we have the distinct advantage."

"I would not be so sure," Teyla remarked, coming up alongside them. She watched the scene unfolding before them with a mixture of relief and trepidation. "I have been speaking with some of the local villagers and it seems Elizabeth was put on trial a few days ago. Some of are of the belief that she has been sentenced to death by their elders for violating the Immarians laws."

"Which laws? The 'do not be a woman leader' law? That's ludicrous."

"Ludicrous or not, Rodney, this is apparently their way. They will not back down easily."

"Well, I hope they're prepared to die for it, then."

Teyla threw him a worried look. "I am afraid they very much are."

"Come on," Ronon said. "We need to move."

_--/--_

John crouched into a lower stance, drawing Elizabeth behind him. His focus was steady, but that didn't diminish the overwhelming urge to unload his P-90 into the group of warriors surrounding them.

The relief, once he recognized her, had been immeasurable; it had taken most of his own willpower not to forget he was in the middle of a hostile situation and dash towards her.

That relief had turned to unmitigated anger once she reached him. Just the state she was in, the bruising across her face and the way she flinched in his arms told him enough about her experience here.

Faced with the same red-haired warrior who'd started this in the first place was a very tempting way to begin retribution. But Elizabeth's hand on his shoulder stayed the desire in the pit of his stomach to play drop every last one of the bastards where they stood.

"This isn't going to do you any good," he began, voice coming out gruff and harsh. "I'd suggest you back away and let us pass."

"I cannot do that, Colonel Sheppard," the redhead returned. "It is my place to keep her here, no matter what the cost."

"That cost is going to be very high for your people if you try and cross us," he returned, training the gun on the spot between her eyes. "Those weapons are no match for us and I think you know that. Now, if you're smart, you'll do what's best for everybody and back off."

Her own spear was poised and ready. "It is not a matter of what is smart or not. I have my orders and I am trained to follow them. To death, if need be."

"That so? We'll keep that in mind."

One of the soldiers to his left shifted, and the warrior group surrounding them responded by tightening their lines, moving their spears inches inwards.

The hand on his shoulder began to shake, and he glanced over, concerned, catching Elizabeth's line of sight in his periphery. A group of men were walking slowly through the field. Most of them he didn't recognize, except for two of the boys who'd first come to Atlantis, but based on the demeanor and carriage of the older men, it was safe to say they were the guys in charge.

He rose slowly, lowering his weapon, though the rest of the marines remained in position. The redhead allowed him to do as much, also seeming to sense the approach of the men and their significance.

"The _Daedalus_ is overhead," he murmured softly, just within Elizabeth's hearing.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Can they use the transport beam?"

"Not yet. Hermiod's working on it. Until they're ready we'll have to go with the flow."

She flashed him an anguished smile and he returned it, though a heated flush travelled up the back of his neck. If he had his choice, he'd ask the ship to beam them all up, then blow this whole damn place to bits.

--/--

Teyla made her way cautiously towards the scene unfolding in the middle of the field, weapon trained on the warriors in front of her. Drawing too close would cause she, Ronon and Rodney to lose their advantageous position, but keeping away rendered them useless as any kind of aid to Colonel Sheppard and the marines.

From the right side of the great stone cliffs a group of men had emerged beneath the doorway Rodney had indicated was marked "Justice". They seemed confident and self-assured, which made Teyla believe they were part of the ruling class of this society, perhaps the Elders mentioned. They were joined by the two young men who'd first come to Atlantis, Fasir and Eylos.

From the left, barely in sight of anyone, came the young woman and man who had seemed to lead the scout party, Sita and Karon. She was ahead of him, her body language confident. He seemed less so, struggling to catch up with her and appearing less than eager to meet with the group. They slowed as they reached the confrontation, hanging back, their presence unnoticed.

"What's going on?" Rodney snapped, trying to see over the field. Ronon placed a restraining arm on him.

"Don't draw attention," the Satedan murmured. "Sheppard may need our help."

Rodney's expression grew concerned. "You really think they're in danger?"

Ronon's only response to McKay was an emotionless glance.

Rodney flinched, his hand travelling to the handgun at his waist. "I guess we should be prepared to help them, then?"

"Perhaps we will have no need of it, " Teyla murmured, glancing around her. The braver Immarians of the village had started to gather nearer to the standoff, moving closer to find out what was going on. She turned and caught Ronon's eye, her thoughts quite clear. "Perhaps we can stop this confrontation before it truly begins."

Ronon looked less than enthusiastic at the idea of interrupting the chance for battle, but he understood her intention for the best. Without another word he and Rodney moved to the groups closest to them, encouraging them onwards, towards the center of the meadow.

--/--

Elizabeth felt John tense beside her and squeezed his shoulder, fighting the subconscious trembling in her hands. That he was angry was easy to see, the expression on his face reminding her of the standoff with Kolya during the storm.

She'd had every kind of faith in him then, but watching him march up that ramp towards her, focused totally on Kolya and the job at hand, had scared her. In a way it still frightened her, knowing that type of ruthlessness lived somewhere beneath his generally easygoing ways. It was a side of him very few had seen, and most who had seen it had not lived long enough to tell of it. She hoped it didn't come down to that.

Hearing the _Daedalus_ was in orbit brought a small comfort, but it seemed a distant one with the beaming capabilities rendered useless. Especially now, as Thorvir, Fasir and the justices made their way across the field.

The circle of warriors parted for them, though none of the marines moved out of position. Thorvir showed no apparent regard for his own safety, for he marched right up to the marines as though they were nothing more than field hands.

"This is your military leader, am I right?" he asked, looking John over.

"Something like that," John snapped in reply. "And who might you be?"

"I am Thorvir, Head Justice of Immaria. I am here to inform you, sir, that the woman you are defending is under arrest by order of the Immarian Council."

"The woman you kidnapped, you mean?"

Thorvir narrowed his eyes. "She broke the laws of…"

"Of what? Your planet, or society, or whatever the hell this sham of a civilization is? You _kidnapped_ someone. Against her will and in violation of the laws of _our_ society. Whatever kind of judgment you rendered here is irrelevant and as far as I'm concerned, places us in a state of war. You tell your 'justices' that."

"We are aware of the indignation you may feel, Colonel…Sheppard, I believe? But you are currently on our soil—willfully, and as such, subject to our laws and judgments."

"You are welcome to try and enforce that. At your will," John returned, as the safeties clicked off the P-90s around him. "If you want."

"Our Elders will not be pleased."

"What?" Elizabeth moved from John's side, causing him to flinch. "You mean the holograms you parade around as Ancients?"

For the first time since she'd met him, Thorvir looked truly stunned. He opened his mouth for a moment, and then shut it again, fixing her instead with a nasty glare.

The people of the village were moving closer, attracted by the standoff in their midst. Elizabeth cleared her throat. "That's right, Thorvir. I met your 'Elders'. They're holograms, programmed by the Ancients who built this place."

The justices, too, noticed the crowd that was starting to gather. A few shifted nervously, knowing quite well what might happen if the people got close enough to hear the argument.

"You lie," Fasir snarled menacingly, his voice raised high enough for the on comers to hear. "You make up lies about our sacred Elders!"

Elizabeth frowned, stepping back from him. Without the advantage of showing the crowd the Hall of the Elders, there was no way to disprove Fasir's claim. The justices would deny any attempt she made to prove they were false, especially if one of them could call up one of the holographic projections at will.

"Let us see what our wise Elders have to say about this." Thorvir turned to the people, who were now close enough to observe and hear everything going on within the circle of warriors. Elizabeth shrunk back, trying desperately to think. With the _Daedalus_ unable to help them, they were going to find themselves truly trapped, at the mercy of the Justice's lies and will of people like Fasir.

There was no escape but one—and it would come at a heavy price.

--/--

"Colonel Davis, I believe I have discovered the cause of most of the interference," Hermiod droned through the radio. Davis tapped nervously on the command chair, waiting for the Asgard to finish. "It appears that there is a holographic projection system which relies upon a series of grid markers located beneath the planet's soil to function. It is this which interferes with the ship's ability to correctly lock on to a designated target."

"Can you disable it?"

"I have already done so, Colonel."

"Good. Contact Colonel Sheppard," he nodded at the communications officer. "Let him know the satellite is…"

"We are still unable to beam anyone from within the stone circle, however," Hermiod interrupted, sounding a bit more irritated than normal at being interrupted. If that was possible.

"Why not?"

There was a pause before the Asgard continued. "I have disabled the projection system, but I have not yet disabled the beaming technology. There are a number of preventative measures employed by the satellite to prevent tampering with the system. It may take several minutes more before I have deactivated everything required to allow beaming to the ship."

"How long?"

"That is difficult to determine."

"Damn. They really picked a pain in the ass with this one, didn't they?"

"It appears to be one of the more onerous societies we have encountered."

Davis took a deep breath. "Thank you, Hermiod. Keep me updated."

"I intend to, Colonel."

The communications officer turned to him with an inquiring look. He shrugged in response. "Go ahead and inform the Colonel of Hermiod's progress. Whatever the hell that thing did with holograms no longer works, but the beam's still being interfered with. I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt for him to know."

--/--

Thorvir had moved forward, facing her, but speaking in a tone the gathered crowd could hear. "We shall see what our Elders have to say in judgment of you. Or do you wish to desecrate their names further with more of your lies?"

Elizabeth leaned back, knocking into John, trying to maintain a calm expression. The justice allowed her silence to take over the circle, driving home his point. The milling crowd had grown so silent only wind whipping through the grass around them could be heard.

John moved against her shoulder, a hand brushing her hair as he raised it to the radio in his ear.

"Tell him to go ahead," he whispered a moment later, so softly even she had to strain to hear him. She turned just enough to catch sight of his face, which smiled reassuringly at her. "Trust me."

She nodded slowly, pulling away from him. There was something nerve-wracking about that, but he wouldn't have given her the go ahead if he had any reason to fear the challenge wouldn't work.

Plus, she trusted him. Completely.

"Very well, Thorvir. Call us your Elders and see what kind of judgment they can pronounce."

The elder justice seemed puzzled at her reticence, but wasted no time.

Fasir narrowed his eyes, a nasty smile on his face. "You will be sorry for your disrespect."

There was a subtle tapping at something on Thorvir's wrist, and for a moment his authority spoke for all, as the group waited in awestruck silence.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, the superior expression on the chief justice's face faded. He surreptitiously moved his fingers to the device on his wrist once more, tapping quickly. Elizabeth held her breath.

Again, nothing.

The color drained from Fasir's face; Elizabeth cast a glance at John, who was grinning almost maliciously. At her inquiring look he leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Hermiod disabled the projection beam from the satellite. No holograms."

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she turned back to the Immarian leaders. "Is there a problem, Thorvir?"

There was no answer he could give. John's grin faded as she moved away from him again, but the chance here was too opportunistic to pass up. "Why don't you tell your people the truth about their Elders? About what they really are?"

Even the warriors were starting to look uncertain of the situation. Elizabeth stepped forward a few feet more; none of them moved. "Your Elders are a training program, Thorvir—three-dimensional pictures beamed from a satellite, which my people have just disabled. They will not be able to help you now. I think it's time you starting explaining to these people the truth of Immaria—or rather, the lies of it. "


	27. Broken

_ A/N: Guys, has been having a problem uploading, so I hope this comes across alright.  
_

The crowd had begun to talk.

Ronon, Teyla and Rodney had managed to edge the citizens close enough to the standoff to understand most of what was going on. Initially, they had not liked what they were hearing from Weir, whose declaration of the falseness of the Elders had incited angry murmurs among the crowd. Those had simmered, though, at Thorvir's failure to produce one of the leaders despite his claims of their existence.

The justice himself now stood surrounded by his warriors, hand clutching at his wrist and looking helpless. That wasn't unusual; people who had a lot of power typically had no idea what to do when stripped of it. Usually, it boiled down to one of two reactions.

Cowardice or desperation.

Ronon stole a quick glance at Teyla, who smiled unenthusiastically at him. If she had the same feeling in her stomach that he did, Sheppard needed to be prepared.

"That thing on his wrist," murmured McKay. "I bet that's it."

"You bet what's what?"

"I bet it's what he uses to call up those holograms Elizabeth mentioned. If that satellite above us can beam people out of here, it can beam things back in, too. I bet they can produce a holographic elder anywhere within this city just by punching coordinates into the satellite computer."

"And Hermiod now has control of the satellite," Teyla replied in a low voice.

"Exactly. He can punch all he likes, but no Elder is going to appear for him."

"I believe he realizes this."

"He's not the only one." Ronon nodded at the warriors surrounding Sheppard's men, a few of whom were slacking off their stances. The redhead next to Thorvir remained in place, her own spear trained on Sheppard, but she, too, looked uncertain.

"There is nothing left but to tell them the truth, Thorvir," Weir said, moving further away from the marines. Rodney made a sound in his throat that sounded like a disapproving cluck and Sheppard was obviously displeased, his frown deepening as she took another step forward.

But Weir was a warrior in her own right and she deserved to fight on her terms. Sheppard recognized that too, though Ronon doubted she'd be given a second opportunity to do something like this again, especially considering the beating she'd taken. Though even that might be working to her advantage. Her appearance, mottled and bruised as she was, seemed to unsettle the population, yet spoke to them of her bravery. "Tell them about the Final Testament. Tell them what it says," she continued authoritatively.

"There is nothing they need to know," snapped the justice. "They…"

"Have every right to know everything you do," she returned, speaking over him. "Because I say they do."

"YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY HERE!" The boy called Fasir moved forward menacingly, his fists clenched. "YOU ARE NOT ONE OF US!"

"Thank god for that," McKay muttered under his breath.

"No, I am not," Weir returned, her tone of voice strong. Beneath the stern expression Ronon picked up on a subtle smirk; a humor at having the upper hand. "But according to the laws which you so vehementlysupport, I do have a right to speak—as _you_ very well know." Her hand fluttered to her cheek, though her eyes bored into his.

Fasir swallowed, none of his anger diminished but apparently with nothing more to say. Thorvir placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it we know? What do you profess to have knowledge of, Doctor Weir?"

She crossed her arms. "That you have committed two wrongs against your people in the last few days, Thorvir. You have encouraged them to accept a punishment their laws do not support. And you have denied them their most basic fundamental right—the ability to choose their own fate."

"You are in no position to claim authority over our ways," Thorvir spat back. "You and your people are not connected with us. You are undeserving of consideration—or of mercy." He directed a hand towards the warriors. "Keep them contained."

The stances tightened once more, forcing Weir to retreat back. At the warriors' aggression, Sheppard took a few quick steps forward from his position, the rest of the marines moving in perfect symmetry, outwards until she was behind them again. The action put the two groups within feet of one another; the redhead's spear just inches from Sheppard's face.

Ronon flexed his fingers, hovering a hand over his gun, fighting off the urge to join them. If they started firing—well, he'd made Sheppard a promise he intended to keep.

"Lower your spears," rose a voice from somewhere to his left. The crowd grew silent, parting to allow the second female warrior who'd travelled to Atlantis passage. Her carriage was determined as she moved towards the group in the center, her spear authoritatively in front of her.

At the sight of her presence both the warriors surrounding the marines and the crowd seemed to relax a bit. Even the redhead seemed to waver at her words, though she did not lower her guard.

The boy Ronon had babysat in the infirmary, Karon, trailed her, wearing a dark look but saying nothing. He'd been in charge of the party on Atlantis, so why here he followed her like a puppy was strange.

"What do you think you are doing, Sita?" Fasir questioned as the girl moved within the circle, forcing some of the warriors to step away from the marines. "You are a warrior, you have no right to challenge anything here."

"This is true, unless we are in a state of war, according the laws of the Testament as explained to the Guild," the young girl returned. "And my right is to speak with the justices, not with you. Do not pretend to represent the authority of laws which you have only begun to understand, Fasir."

"Sita," Karon murmured behind her.

Sita did not acknowledge him, but instead trained her eyes to the justices. "Under the laws of the Testament, the Warrior Guild is given decision-making authority when it is determined that Immaria has entered a state of war. According to him," she gestured towards Sheppard, "we have entered a state of war. Therefore, the Warriors are afforded the privileges of leadership."

"That is on a world other than Immaria," Thorvir countered.

"There is nothing in the laws that state this," she shot back, fixing him with an icy stare. "At least not those given to the Warrior Guild. If there is something omitted from the Testament laws addressing war, we must be made aware of it, otherwise someone has violated the balance inherent in the separation of Immarian power."

Silence greeted this declaration. If they argued her command, they went directly against the rules she'd just cited, rules they relied on to keep their people under control. If they supported her, Weir would be allowed to speak and inform the citizens of whatever she felt they needed to know. In either case, the justices had just lost their edge.

"Now let her speak. She has a right to do so," Sita continued, this time training her gaze towards the rest of the warriors. On her unspoken command, the soldiers lifted their spears away from the marines, including the redhead.

Weir nodded an acknowledgment to the girl, though she wasted no time stepping forward once more to address the crowd. "What your justices do not want you to know is that the Alterans provided for your future in the same way they provided for the futures of all their children, including us. Once, we were a civilization that had heard nothing of the great cultures and worlds beyond our own planet. Then, one day, we were granted the gift of a Stargate—a ceremonial ring—that allowed us to travel the stars, as you do.

"Through exploration and discovery, we learned of the Alterans and all they had left behind for us. We learned of their role on our planet, as our ancestors, and the many great things they had done. Of the technology they had left behind, and the legacy they had left as well. That legacy, for us, was Atlantis.

"But it was not just us to whom the city was left. The Alterans, your ancestors, left Atlantis behind to be shared by all their descendents. And they endeavored to give you, one of their chosen races, the ability to learn of the new ways in which their descendents could live together. Ways of peace, not war—ways of life, and of growth, and most importantly, of change. The Alterans knew that the future would be difficult for all those who followed in their footsteps; who faced the dangers they left behind, like the Wraith. They wanted to give you the chance to be prepared to face those dangers. They wrote as much in your Testament—a final law, which gives you the right to a new and different way of living."

"This is not true," said one of the citizens after a moment. "No such law exists."

"It does exist. I have seen it," Weir replied, gently. "And read it."

"You could not have," the redhead snapped. "No one is allowed to enter the Halls of Testament who is not one of the leadership, and no female would ever be capable of reading it."

"No female would be allowed to read it, according to the old laws of your Testament. But that does not mean they _could _not, if they were given the opportunity to learn the language of the Alterans. The last law inscribed upon the walls—the Final Testament—allows that to happen. It instructs you to follow a new way—a way very different from what you have known. It instructs you to follow the ways of Atlantis. _Our_ ways."

She'd spoken as gently as she could, but an almost riotous shout went up anyway; many in the crowd decrying anything so blasphemous.

One of the other things Ronon knew about leaders was that they didn't become leaders by being stupid, at least not most of the time. Weir was working a crowd trained in thousands of years of tradition and Thorvir knew this. Immediately he stepped forward, raising his hands.

"Do you see what she would do? She would corrupt our ways. She has already done so to one of our most treasured warriors," he gestured towards Sita, who met his accusations with a calm bearing. "And now she would try and overthrow everything that has made us special, made us the chosen people of the Alterans, by arguing her ways are better. Ways that have desecrated the very nature of the Alteran laws. Would you let such a person plague our ideals, our beliefs? Do not be fooled! She, and all her people, deserve…"

"Death?" Weir cut him off, raising an eyebrow. "And where in your laws does it proscribe that punishment?"

Thorvir's eyes widened, mouth open. The people turned to him, silence throughout the crowd, waiting on his answer.

He had none.

"Your justices sentenced me to death for my position on Atlantis," Weir returned. "But no matter who looks at the Testament, or whose right it is to the look at it, none of them will find a law sanctioning execution. Ask any of your Justices, leaders, or Elders, to show you a place where it does. If they can, then my people and I will relent. I will hand over my own head to your judgment, whatever it may be."

Sheppard flinched at that statement as McKay drew in a breath. Even Teyla looked a little uneasy. It was a gamble, to say the least, if Weir didn't have a clear understanding of what she was talking about.

But as she had so often proven, this was a battle she was prepared for. Thorvir offered nothing, and the rest of the justices behind him could only look at one another uncertainly.

"There's nothing." Weir turned once again to the people. "The Alterans who left you their legacy were a people who sought _peace_. Who valued education and exploration. They established your world in the hope that your people would be able to live peacefully and comfortably, without needing to engage in unnecessary wars and without having to suffer inequality.

"But if that system did not work, they also gave you the chance to change it. If at some point you felt like there were those who deserved to be heard," she raised a hand to Sita's shoulder, "or if there were those who deserved to have a voice, though they were not allowed to—the Alterans gave you the opportunity to make that happen, if you wished to take it. Take advantage of what your ancestors left you. And give those you believe in the chance to make life better for you—for everyone."

Silence greeted the last of her words, the quiet so thick the only sound that broke it was the fluttering of the wind through the meadow. Ronon could guess at the ideas spinning through the minds of those surrounding him—common people, unused to the thought of having power where none had existed before. Many looked towards Sita, thinking over what Weir had said. That they trusted in her was clear as well; it was no surprise that more than a few had probably thought at one time or another she would have made a good leader.

The justices, too, sat on these words in silence, eyes flickering nervously among the crowd.

"And what would you have us do?" asked a familiar voice.

The crowd turned, almost in unison, towards the question. Ronon raised an eyebrow in surprise as Karon moved forward. Weir suddenly looked puzzled and a little uncertain.

"Our people have lived this way for thousands of years. Our laws and ways have kept us safe from the Wraith and from other dangers. We have not encountered what others have encountered. Our civilization has thrived and prospered under the laws of our Testament. Why, now, should we change it, even if we have the right to do so?"

There was that arrogance again, that superiority of manner that had rubbed them all the wrong way. But Weir no longer studied him with disapproval, but rather with interest, as though considering what he was saying.

Her next words surprised them all.

"No one says you must."

Karon frowned as Sita turned to her, surprised. Weir folded her lower lip in a slight pout and continued. "This Final Testament is not a law you are forced to follow, Karon, even if it is written as though it should be. All it truly does is give you a choice. Laws are established to provide guidance and order, but they can be changed if a society is willing. If you and your people desire it, you are welcome to continue to do as you have always done, and if from this moment you wish for these men to lead you as they have always led, you are welcome to that as well. Even if the Alterans demanded you obey what they had written, they are not here to stop you from enacting change."

"Disobeying the laws as written? What you suggest is anarchy," Karon breathed, his eyes narrowing. "Lawlessness."

"Not if it is change brought about with understanding and intelligence. There is no reason to fear change for the better, if handled by the right people."

"_Your_ people," he scoffed. "_Your_ ways. You, who have lived among us for a mere few days. And now you believe you have seen and understand enough to suggest our ways are the weaker ones."

"She didn't 'live' among you," Sheppard snapped suddenly. "She was kidnapped by you. Taken from her people, brutalized and sentenced to death. For what? Not living up to your high and mighty expectations? Being a little different from you? Call me crazy, but somehow I'm not seeing how that speaks well for the way your people do things, even if they have been doing it for thousands of years."

"You desecrated the Great City," Fasir responded. "You scoffed at the ways of the Alterans and made up lies about our brethren."

"Brethren? You mean the Asurans?" John straightened. "We didn't have to make up anything about them. Your ancestors did that pretty well on their own."

Weir raised an eyebrow as Fasir moved to argue, cutting him off. "You want to know the truth about the Asurans? Why don't you ask your chief justice? You might be surprised at what they _truly_ know."

Thorvir's face had paled, and he swallowed heavily at Weir's words as Fasir turned to him. "Grandfather?"

"Grandfather?" McKay murmured. "Well, that explains a lot."

The Chief Justice directed his answer back to the group in the center, ignoring his grandson. "There is nothing in the Testament laws that prohibits concealing information from our people, for their betterment. There is no reason why they have to know all if it will not benefit them."

Weir's smile grew as the people began to murmur, responding unfavorably to this. "And would it have been better for them to not have known my execution was illegal? Was that another piece of 'information' it would have benefitted the people not to know?"

She turned back to Karon. "You see? This is exactly what I am referring to. Men have been given the power to determine what laws say—but they haven't respected the ways in which they were to be followed. Your people should never have been kept ignorant of what the Testament truly says; then, something like this could never have happened. Now, what do they do? Do you allow this to continue, until the next injustice is served? Or do you change it, if only a little, to allow for this society to honor what the Alterans truly wanted of them?"

Karon's expression darkened for a moment, until he caught sight of Sita's face. The young woman studied him sadly, shaking her head.

"This is not the kind of people we have ever sought to be, Karon. I shall never be one who would strike another in frustration, or who would corrupt our ways by interpreting the laws to their satisfaction, and knowing they can do this because others are forced into ignorance. I will never kill needlessly to protect my own position. I do not want Immaria to be this way. I had hoped you would not, either."

The justices had trained their gazes to the boy, whose expression remained carefully neutral, though his eyes spoke enough for him.

He was in love with the girl.

"Once, you did not believe it was as you describe now," he returned softly. "You believed in it all—in the separation of authority, of the powers afforded to a few with the trust they would do right. You have seen cultures such as this one before, which would scoff at our ways, and before this woman they have never affected you. What has changed your mind? Why do you believe that this world is so cruel? Our people are happy here! They live in peace. Why do you risk your life for outsiders?"

"Was it truly happy? Was it truly peaceful? Doctor Weir was not the first person to be struck in our presence. You have seen it many times, as have I. To our friends and our families. For many generations our common citizens have lived in fear, though we have not called it such. We have considered it good for the benefit of all, but is it truly good, to live in fear? To know you will never be better in your life than you are? I do not think so.

"We excused our behavior because we were the chosen people of the Alterans. But is that what we are? Or did we just use it as a reason to continue in our ways? What of our people's legacy is truly respecting what they wished us to be?"

"We have done our best, Sita. Perhaps not everything we have done has been what the Alterans wished but I believe our choices have always been in the best interests of Immaria and its people."

"I may have believed that, too, Karon." Sita swallowed. "I may have gone on believing that forever—until this."

Karon glanced over at Weir, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Only when I was ordered to seize Doctor Weir against her will did I fully begin to understand what was truly wrong with Immaria. It was not their desecration of the Great City that angered us; it was fear of what they represented."

"What of them did we have to fear?" Fasir questioned through gritted teeth. "They are inferior in every way."

"Would all of us have believed that?" Sita turned to him, shaking her head. "Did you really believe all of the Immarians would think as you, or Karon, do? In truth, what I believe you most feared—what I most feared—was not just that the Lanteans would change our ways, but that our people would wish them to."

"That is blasphemous!" Fasir shouted.

Sita's expression did not change. Instead, she turned her face towards the crowd, looking them over. "Is it? What do you think our people would say?"

Ronon scanned the crowd, glancing over quickly at Teyla, who was watching the young woman intently. When he finally caught her eye, she smiled reassuringly at him. What the warrior was saying, if he wasn't mistaken, was working.

Sita turned back to Karon, facing him fully. "I do not blame you for your actions. I, too, believed so wholeheartedly in the Testament that I did not want to see it threatened. Nor did I wish to admit that our ways were perhaps corrupted from the benevolent intentions of our ancestors. Even I, who could see the wrong, could not refrain from contriving a way to see Doctor Weir gone from our world.

"But, " she raised a hand to the boy's cheek, flinching as he pulled away from her, "what speaks to me most is the darkness I saw in others. In those I loved. Before, I simply ignored those parts of our society that felt wrong, for this was the way life had always been for us. But I did not wish it to happen. And so long as it happened only to our people, I did not have to feel remorse for the few inequities that I saw. But now I see them, in the treatment of an innocent, and what our people have done, and what they were willing to do, and it pains me. It breaks my heart."

She swallowed, then broke away from the boy, laying her spear to the ground. "This is not what I wish for Immaria. I am only a warrior and perhaps have no right to speak of such things, but in my heart I wish for peace. I want to seek change for the better. I want to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves and I wish to no longer live in ignorance. If that must come at the cost of my life, then so be it."

"Do not say that," he pleaded softly. "Please."

"I am sorry."

"She has made her choice," Thorvir said. "She stands with them. She betrays her people." He turned to the crowd. "Her punishment shall be the same as theirs."

The redhead glanced over at the council. "Without a trial? Sita has perhaps spoken swiftly, but we have never…"

"As she declared, we are in a state of war," Thorvir returned, a cold gleam in his eyes. "In a state of war justice can be served on the battlefield. Sita has betrayed her Guild and this council and as such is now subject to the laws of a traitor. There will be no mercy shown her."

The girl whirled towards Karon, her green eyes wide. "She is to die?"

Sita shook her head. "Dravan, I have made my choice. I will honor the Council's wishes. If death is their command, then I accept this."

An uncomfortable whisper filtered through the crowd. Thorvir ignored it, turning to Doctor Weir. "You have sentenced someone to death with your actions. Is this the freedom and choice you hoped to bring to Immaria?"

"Do not blame me for the power you wield, Thorvir," Weir shot back. "Is this how you honor the legacy of the Alterans? Concealing their final law from their people and then condemning to death those who would seek to honor it? You were not supposed to be allowed to pick and choose the laws that suited you, but that is what has happened here."

"As Karon has said—the Alterans left our legacy behind to be interpreted by those they deemed worthy. And as you yourself have pointed out, Doctor Weir, if men of reason shape the laws, there is nothing wrong with that as well. We do no wrong in doing as they dictated we do. Or in interpreting it for the protection of all our people. Sometimes, sacrifices must be made."

"No."

Thorvir turned in shock towards the circle of warriors. The redhead, Dravan, stood tall, her expression neutral. "No, that is not true."

Fasir moved towards her. "Dravan, you don't know of what you are speaking."

"Am I to be called a fool?" she returned hotly. "Is that what you believe of me? The Alterans designated women warriors for their ability to think rationally during situations of great distress. If there was ever a time I would know of what I am speaking, it is now."

She whirled to face Thorvir, lowering her spear away from Sheppard. "I have never attempted to know of our laws beyond what concerned me. I am content with my role. But you have now condemned one of our own to die with no concern for the laws which govern such things."

"Dravan!" Fasir stretched a hand out towards her, his expression almost piteous. "Hold your tongue!"

"I respect our Testament. I respect our ways. But I respect our people—my fellow warriors, whom I have fought beside and who have saved my life—more than anything else. _En patria qua veritas totan. _In my people will I place all my trust. But your actions have broken this. To whom should I now look for guidance?"

Her spear hit the ground with a dull thud. "You have betrayed us."

Sita turned to her fellow warrior, her eyes shining with something like hope. Fasir clenched his fist in response, but could think of nothing to say. Dravan's face was intimidating, controlling and threatening while still maintaining calm.

She reminded Ronon very much of Teyla.

McKay opened his mouth to say something, but Ronon clamped a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. For once, Rodney took the hint and shut it.

Slowly, throughout the group, heads began to nod, whispers rising through the crowd, timid, but growing.

The warriors around the marines began to lower their spears, to the ground. The marines maintained their protective positions, but even from this distance, Ronon could sense the tension lowering among them. Teyla's posture had relaxed a little, too; only Sheppard remained focused.

"Don't be fooled," Thorvir choked out desperately, as the remainder of the Immarian soldiers dropped their weapons. "They know not of what they speak! Only we have the privilege of listening to the Elders—of knowing their ways."

"And where are the Elders?" shouted a voice from the crowd.

"We do not see them! It is as the Lantean has said!" cried another.

Thorvir's hand automatically floated up to his wrist. He cast a glance at Weir, who smiled triumphantly at him.

As the remainder of the crowd began to talk, a shiver travelled up Ronon's spine, alerting his senses. He didn't like the air around him, it suddenly felt wrong. Teyla, too, scanned the crowd uneasily, and Sheppard must have noticed it as well; he was wound up more tightly than before, if that were possible.

The rest of the marines shifted as the crowd around them started to press inward, growing angrier as they drew near their justices. The Immarian soldiers, weaponless now, watched their leaders in confusion, trying to figure out what to do next.

Too disordered. He didn't like it.

A strong hand grasped Ronon's arm and he glanced towards Teyla, whose eyes were trained on the group of justices.

Cowardice or desperation.

His stomach twisted as he reached for his gun.

--/--

John felt something inside him grow cold as Ronon's voice carried over the meadow.

"SHEPPARD!"

Instantly he whirled on his heel, towards the group of justices. Lorne and the others were trained on them, but the milling crowd burst into a cacophony of sound and movement as Fasir heaved a mighty scream and dashed forward. In response two of the marines let loose a warning line of shots.

It was the wrong move.

The people of Immaria, unused to the weaponry of Atlantis, leapt in confusion at the loud bangs made by the guns. Intent on the scene at hand, the sudden breakout of sound turned the atmosphere completely frantic.

The crowd parted in all directions, knocking into one another and driving themselves further into confusion. The mass of them surged forward, straight into the circle of marines, who refused to fire on the commoners. John struck out a hand, reaching immediately for Elizabeth, but grasped nothing.

She was gone.

His heart pounded in his chest as he searched amidst the Immarians overwhelming him, scanning frantically for her. Ronon and Teyla were trying to push forward through the crowd, but there were too many in their way.

Something knocked him sideways and he stumbled; the redhead who'd started this was suddenly on the ground beside him, her eyes wide and confused. And she was missing her spear.

John yanked to his feet, whirling towards the group of marines now desperately trying to keep order.

He'd lost sight of Fasir.

He searched the crowd again, panic rising. The people were growing more and more chaotic. Lorne fired his P-90 into the air a few times, but the sound only seemed to confuse the group more.

_Where the hell is she? _

He screamed some kind of order into the muddle, his voice lost, though he kept scanning for that familiar face.

Another caught his attention.

Fasir was struggling ahead of him, a broken spear in hand, intently pushing through the throng. As they parted, John finally caught sight of Elizabeth, back turned to them, Sita by her side, trying to keep on her feet and calm the people who were running past her.

Fasir was only ten or so feet away.

"ELIZABETH!" The sound was lost in the madness. She couldn't hear him.

_No! Dammit!_

"ELIZABETH!"

He was firing his P-90 at the ground, the crowd parting rapidly ahead of the blasts. They were starting to calm; somewhere Ronon's stunner was going full force, but John's focus was only on her and Fasir's approach. She had her back turned; she couldn't see what was coming for her and the people around her were distracting her attention and that of the marines nearby.

"ELIZABETH! _ELIZABETH_!"

Somehow his voice broke through the chaos and she turned, glancing over at him in surprise. She saw Fasir then, just feet away, and her eyes widened, hands going up in self-defense. He was too close to avoid and there was nowhere to go.

John's stomach clenched as the world around him grew quiet. He saw nothing else at that point, just the slow, methodical rise of the boy's arm as the spear pulled back, hanging in the air for one heartbeat of a second, then swinging forward at a blinding pace.

He desperately raised his gun, but there were too many in front of him, blocking his shot. The shout rose in his throat, his vision blurred, as Elizabeth's screams broke the silence.

Shots rang through the crowd once more and Fasir stumbled to the ground, hands stained, eyes glazed over at the sight before him, where a pool of red mixed with the creamy white of Elizabeth's dress.


	28. Trust

There wasn't any pain.

Her body felt cold; numb from the shock of the attack, perhaps. But there wasn't any pain. She'd been expecting it when the first blow hit and it was strange, to find there was none.

Fasir slipped to the ground, his eyes glazing over with the cloak of death. She felt pity for him, for the anger he held in life.

So much waste.

Hands grabbed at her, flipped her over. One face stood out, eyes wide with fear, with pain. She tried to reach for him but she found she couldn't lift her arm.

There were sounds all around, but they were dying away. The crowd, coming to a halt, watching now and listening, hopefully, to everything that had happened.

_If this sacrifice must come_, she thought, _it will come to some good. Please. Let there be change._

The hands pulled her up, lifting her eyes to the sky. It was incredibly blue, just hovering around the edges of the great Circle. She loved it here, the meadow, on days like this.

Her head tilted down and Karon's face swam into view. His face was so terribly solemn, but his expression spoke to her.

Kind. Loving.

It was all she'd ever wanted of him.

Her eyes darted away, searching for Doctor Weir. The Atlantis leader sat beside her, her dress and hands stained with blood, the emotions on her face a mixture of shock and sadness. Yet she was unharmed. Sita felt relieved. When Fasir had raised his spear to them, Sita knew no other choice but the one she had made. Doctor Weir could not die today, even if meant another must die in her place.

John Sheppard bent down to Doctor Weir's left, a hand rising to find her shoulder, as though to check her wholeness. The pulse line pounded in his neck and fire still lit his eyes, but the touch was gentle, relieved, reassuring Sita that this had repaid the debt she owed them all for her actions on Atlantis and in Immaria.

The darkness that had shadowed his face for so long died away; remorse replacing anger as he gazed at Sita, looking upon her with sadness, the kind reserved for tragedy, not grief. There was no need to speak of what he knew; she could feel what was left of the life within her draining away.

She turned towards the man holding her, finding the same look in Karon's eyes as Colonel Sheppard held in his so many days ago on Atlantis, when he'd stood by Doctor Weir's side, defending her position. She'd envied the Lantean then; envied the companionship, the trust, and the understanding. She'd envied the depth of it, for it came not from tradition, or requirement, or ritual, but from the very core of the human heart, a great, unspoken thing that no words could define.

She had so very much wanted the same. Now, looking into Karon's eyes, her hope was, finally, that she had touched it somehow, though it came at so large a cost.

"Karon…"

"Do not speak," he murmured, holding her closer. "Neela has been sent for."

"She will not come in time." Her voice was barely a whisper but she could not strengthen it. "I wish…"

His eyebrows knit together and his jaw clenched. She would not do this to him; make him sad. He was too strong for that. He would have been a great warrior, a great leader of warriors, had he been allowed. Strong and brave and true to his beliefs.

"You must fight for the better," she breathed. Her words had no strength. "You are better than they and you must fight for that so all may know it."

"Sita…"

"Promise me."

Tears grew in his eyes. She could not stand the pain of that. "Promise me."

"I promise." His hand lay softly on her shoulder, as she so often had done for him.

She felt the tears streak across her cheeks. "Good."

There was a soft sigh before the world fell away.

--/--

Elizabeth Weir did not know what to say.

She'd heard John's cries just a few seconds before she caught sight of Fasir running towards her. At some point, she would lose her life for the expedition, she'd been certain of that, but she was unprepared for this.

And then Sita had pushed her out of the way.

It had happened so quickly, the spear stabbing through Sita's chest, her falling, one of the marines nearby shooting Fasir. She knew, immediately, the boy did not fear his death. His anger extended to her, but not to Sita. The last look he gave was one of regret.

But Sita's action she had not expected and she did not know what to say, now. There was no comfort she could offer Karon or words of wisdom for the young girl. Sita had done as she saw fit, but it was a waste, nonetheless. The waste of a perfectly good, promising life. A life that deserved to live.

Karon lifted Sita to his shoulder, cradling her, as the last sighs escaped the young warrior's body. The scene before her blurred and she rose robotically, bringing a hand to her face.

John rose with her; she'd not even sensed when he'd reached her side but his presence felt automatic. And she needed it, right now.

Around them, the crowd of Immarians who'd started the panic had silenced, all watching in sadness what had unfolded amidst the chaos. Rodney, too, flanked by Teyla and Ronon, stood just beyond the small group of people surrounding them. The marines had lowered their weapons, and the warriors had not retrieved theirs. All tension was gone, dissolved in the wake of the tragedy before them.

Thorvir and his justices approached them from the right, studying the fallen. The Chief Justice wore a look of disdain at the sight of her, covered in Sita's blood and weakly trying to maintain her calm.

And suddenly she was very, very angry.

"Is THIS what you wanted?" she snarled, pressing towards him. John, at her elbow, swiftly grabbed her arm, holding her back. "Is THIS the world you wanted to protect? That girl did not deserve to die. And that boy," she waved a hand towards Fasir, "deserved to know the truth. Your grandson. He deserved to be taught about justice and equality. Not fear and death!"

"YOU brought this upon us!" Thorvir shouted, his composure finally breaking. "You destroyed their lives with your false words! You should never have come! You should have been killed the moment we met you!"

"Funny, I'd say the same thing about you," John returned coldly. He stood behind her, the pistol in his hand raised at arm's length just above her shoulder. Elizabeth closed her eyes, the memories of the past few days spinning through her head, and a part of her wanted him to do exactly as he wished to do, to fire.

But that wasn't who she was, and it wasn't who he was, either. She knew the regret he'd feel for taking the shot, even if he buried it beneath excuses and justifications. Even if it were the right thing to do. She wouldn't turn him into a cold-blooded killer on her account. They were not as Karon and Sita had been and they would not make those same mistakes now.

She raised a hand to the one clutching the pistol; when she touched his skin it was almost electric, and she was afraid for a split second that she might have set him off. His forearm tensed, but he maintained control, and with a concerted effort she forced him to lower the gun.

His eyes did not leave Thorvir's face, but when she squeezed his wrist he relaxed. Just a small movement, but she knew him well enough to know the danger had passed.

The Chief Justice stood his ground; to his credit he showed no fear, though his expression had gone blank. When John lowered his weapon the remainder of the Council drew near him.

"It is time we finished this," Elizabeth said quietly.

"You are right," he returned. He marched towards Sita's body, his voice rising. "You have brought disorder and doubt to our people. You incite rebelliousness and fire upon us with weapons that can take life in mere seconds. You bring death. This is the world you wish us to emulate? The better life we are to possess? How many times have you injured others in your fight to secure the Atlantian justice? How many times have you had to stay his hand?" Thorvir cast a look towards John, whose nose flared, though his eyes housed some regret at the actions which supported Thorvir's argument

"Your ways, in a matter of days, have cast our world into chaos and despair. It has turned our people against one another and brought them death. Even if our ways appear archaic to those beyond the borders of Immaria, would you have us become a people who can bring about this?"

Elizabeth clenched her jaw, trying to keep it from trembling. She'd wrapped her arms protectively around her body, Sita's blood streaking the white material of her gown, already caked and dry on her hands. Even as the people looked at her there was nothing more she could offer; she felts drained and utterly, completely exhausted.

When she had no answer Thorvir approached her again. There was no pomp to his words, just the same weary, stalwart expression he'd always worn. He made a small gesture towards Sita.

"Why, Doctor Weir, would you believe that your ways are any better than ours?"

Silence. John bent his head towards her and Rodney widened his eyes, willing her to speak, to say the perfect words that would silence the doubts and the questions.

She had none.

He drew a great breath, his eyes narrowing in triumph.

"Because they are."

Elizabeth looked up in surprise. Karon remained on his knees, Sita's body resting before him, but he was the one who had spoken.

Thorvir turned towards the young man. "Karon?"

"They did not cause this," the boy replied, his tone of voice dispassionate. "We caused this. By taking one of them. Had it been one of our people, trapped in another's ways, we, too, would have done all we could to save her."

"Karon."

He looked over to them, pulling to his feet slowly. "Fasir took Sita's life by mistake, but it was because he held respect for no life. Had these people been the same as he, many more would be lying dead in our meadow. Including you."

Thorvir's eyes flickered towards John, but he ignored the implication and moved closer to the young Immarian. "You would defend them? After all that they have done?"

"And what part of this, if any, would you believe we did not cause ourselves? I was angry with them for presenting us with a future so different from ours. I wanted her to pay for even suggesting that such a system—one that seemed so unbalanced—could be better than our own."

"It is not. You have seen what such lack of order can cause."

"Have I?" Karon shook his head, holding up his hands, his voice growing strained. "_This_ is what I see. After all has been said and done, and we have been compared, our people killed one another. He saved her life," he murmured, gesturing towards John, "and I could not save Sita's. That is the only difference that I see!"

"That was chance. Unfortunate. But it does not mean we lack control or order. Or that we live without justice."

"We live with justice. But we do not trust in it. We trust in nothing." Karon took a breath, steadying his voice. "Even after everything she suffered, this woman could not be broken because she trusted that her people would come for her. She placed faith in them, and because she could see the good in others, she placed trust in Sita, too. We do not know such things. Our people do not trust our leaders. And our leaders do not trust our people. They live on lies."

"Do you truly believe that she and the rest of her people do not make decisions that are kept secret from others? Judgments that affect more than their own race? Judgments that cause death and pain? They are not guiltless, Karon. Surely you must know this."

"I do not know of their ways. But I know what Sita believed of them—that they were worth the cost of her life. If I had seen that sooner…" he paused, clenching his jaw for a moment. "But I did not, because I pushed her away. She did not trust me. That woman," he waved a finger towards Elizabeth and John, "trusted in _him_ no matter how hopeless her life seemed. But because of my lack of faith, Sita walked her path alone and for that, she died alone, believing the worst of me. Whatever their decisions and judgments may be, they will never know that pain."

"Karon." Thorvir approached the young man. "Life is not always fair, but these are the prices we all pay. The sacrifices we make for our people. What is best…"

"It is not what is best—not for everyone." He shrugged off the justice. "It is what is best for _you_."

Thorvir's expression of remorse faded. "It is what was best for you as well."

"What was best for me," he hissed, eyes narrowing, "was _Sita_. And now she is gone. I will accept whatever fate is appointed me. It was no less than she did. But I will not support ways that conceal truth from our people, or use people long dead as leaders and wise men, pretending they live. Our way sees those gifted in leadership confined to war, and those who should do nothing but fight trained to be leaders. That is _wrong_."

"You place yourself in danger."

"What does that matter? I have lost what matters. Nothing you say to me can frighten me now."

The chief justice drew closer, both hands on the boy's shoulders. "You are the hope of our people. Our future. Do not say things you shall regret in a moment of passion and despair. Everything we have done we have done for you, so that you may lead us into the future. Do not deny your birthright—what the Testament has laid out for you."

The young man studied Thorvir for a moment. Beyond the justice's shoulder Elizabeth stood, watching anxiously, a tight pressure in her chest. Her eyes met his, though he broke away swiftly. She was unable to read his thoughts.

"I will not," he murmured, stepping back. "I cannot."

Elizabeth folded her arms around herself, glancing at John, who met her gaze with concern. One wrong move and the balance of this entire world could be upset. But she could say nothing. It was not her place, not with Karon. This was a decision he had to make on his own.

The hopes of everyone rested on it.


	29. Change

There was a spear resting at his feet.

He recognized the smart, neat tie joining the spearhead to the staff, a technique perfected by Sita when they were just children. She had known her place then and he had envied it of her. The ways of the warriors had been exciting and she was set to join them, and be a great leader of them, if her mother was to be believed.

But Sita had spoken far too fondly of the laws he was learning from his time with the justices, and it concerned him. Even as she shaped her spears, she questioned his knowledge of the rules, wondering where they came from and why they existed.

He chastised her every time she did that; he did not want her to get into trouble with her parents for stepping beyond the bounds of her training. Eventually, as she grew, he found it was easier just to answer and allow her her inquiries. She had enough respect for their system to not flaunt her interest to those who should not know. And those who did tolerated her questions and her curiosity, because she was a fine warrior with a strong heart and an unquestioning loyalty.

Early on, even in early youth, he knew she'd wanted more of him than friendship. He hoped she would grow beyond this, but as time passed, he found he wished that no longer. Instead, he yearned to return those feelings.

And yet, if he allowed himself any leniency towards her, it risked her position. She was too strong, Thorvir had warned him once, for Karon to allow his own feelings to overpower his judgment. If he gave in too much she would take advantage and place herself in danger of betraying her role in Immaria.

So he pushed her away. Again and again, despite her insistence, her support of him as chief warrior of his team, her gentle smiles and soft touches to his shoulder, he kept her away.

She had never despised him for this; it was as though it were enough just to be near him. Or perhaps she had always known his true feelings and was content to suffer them in silence. Or maybe it was because she knew his intention, to protect her and, in part, to protect himself.

Now, lying at his feet, were the consequences of his inaction. He had protected his people; their laws, their ways. He and Sita had never broken their rules.

And still, she had died.

He had tried to protect her and she had died. She died because he had never truly done what needed to be done—he had never accepted her. Not who she truly was, only what he wished she'd be, for her own good.

If he had thought beyond what he had been told, if he had truly seen, as Sita wanted him to, he would have known that that was not the person he'd ever wanted her to be. It was not the woman he had loved. He had loved her just as she was.

She slept now, peacefully, eyes closed and a gentle smile upon her face. Immaria did not mourn the loss of those who died in battle, for they went with the greatest honor.

But Karon, the man, could mourn the loss of someone he had loved more than anything else. And he would make certain that everything he had loved about her would be defended, to the end of his life. It would not repay the debt or replace the pain, but it could change everything, so those who came behind would never know so sad a story.

--/--

John moved a little closer to Elizabeth, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself, watching Karon intensely. Everything felt like it hinged on his next move and John wanted to make sure he was ready, whatever the result. Davis hadn't yet radioed in about the _Daedalus_, but if John had his way, they were all getting out alive, whatever the Immarians decided.

The boy paused, bending down to retrieve the spear laying at Sita's side, fingering the bindings. Elizabeth was holding her breath, as was Thorvir, just a few feet beyond him.

Finally, Karon lifted his head, raising his voice to a level all the people could hear. "By the will of the Final Testament left to us by the Alterans, the people of Immaria are granted a choice."

"_Karon_!" snapped Thorvir, moving to follow. John eyed him furiously, but Ronon got there first, darting forward to catch hold of the justice's white tunic. Thorvir tried to protest, but the Satedan shoved his pistol in the man's stomach, moving so swiftly few, if any, of the citizens noticed.

"I think we'll listen to what he has to say," John said. His expression spoke enough for the mood he was in, and Thorvir thankfully got the message and made no further attempt to press forward.

"Our ways have governed us for as long as we have been in existence. And there is much to be proud of in our people. But there is much to regret as well. Much we must consider as we build our future. And as this woman—as Doctor Weir—has said, we have a will left to us by our Ancestors that would…that would change our ways."

He frowned, lowering the spear, his eyes travelling across the populace. First to the common citizens, who stood stunned and silent around the field; then to the warriors, huddled in a group around Dravan's tear-stained face; then the justices, gathered together in a circle, and finally to where Sita and Fasir lay, their blood staining the tender green grass of the meadow.

When he lifted his eyes back to his people, they were filled with tears. "I want to make a change for the better."

The meadow absorbed the silence after his words died away, seeming to echo his weary sigh. Thorvir squirmed within Ronon's grasp, but it was a weak, fruitless move, and the Satedan let him go without a struggle. The people glanced around, looking to each other for comfort, uncertain of the choices they needed to make or where even to begin to discuss what the boy's declaration meant. Karon himself seemed lost, hand travelling to his forehead, rubbing absently.

John sensed no triumph here, not immediately. It was too difficult to say if anyone had won or lost this battle. But Elizabeth, who still watched the scene intently, seemed to convey a sense of promise. There was a hope in her eyes; a hope that someone had understood what had been attempted, even if it felt uncertain right now, and came at far too heavy a price.

"You speak the truth. There is no need to fear it," murmured a voice from beyond the crowd. Slowly, the citizens parted; relief lighting some faces as an old woman moved through them. She glanced over at where Sita lay, taking a moment to bow down to the girl, though it was clear there was no help left for her. Her expression was grief-stricken, but she pulled to her feet with determination and approached the boy at the center of the ring.

"I know this is difficult," she said. "This will continue to be difficult. Change takes time. There will be doubts, and fears, and in some cases, mistakes. But in the end, it will be worth the effort, if the people are willing to accept the path."

John glanced around the crowd of Immarians, who were drawing closer to the old woman and Karon. He couldn't tell by their expressions whether they believed what she said.

"But it will require a leader to guide them. One who can continue to push for the betterment of all. One who can shoulder the burdens. One with the mind of a justice but the strength of a warrior."

Karon shook his head, eyes to the ground. "This cannot be me, Neela. I still do not know if I believe it myself. It should have been Sita…this…"

"Sita believed it should be you."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"Sita wanted to speak on behalf of her people. But she always knew the one who would lead them would be you. They knew this as well," she nodded towards the other justices, still huddled together, "it is why they fought so hard to make you a follower of their ways. To turn you down their path. But they could not. Even with your anger, and your prejudice, you have the heart of an Alteran, your ancestors. And in the end, it is that which must guide you for the betterment of all."

"What authority do you have to assert such things?" Thorvir, safely out of Ronon's range, approached them. "To believe you can just enact the Final Testament without consideration for everything we have established here?"

Neela turned to him, her face growing hard. "Because I helped write the Testament, Thorvir. And I will see it through to the end."

Karon took a surprised step back as a white light flared through the meadow, blinding them momentarily. John reached for Elizabeth, assuring himself of her presence beside him, and attempted to blink away the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

When the air cleared, what he saw wasn't exactly unfamiliar, but it shocked the hell out of him nonetheless.

--/--

When Elizabeth lowered he hand from her eyes, the old, wizened woman who had first come to her defense had morphed into a hybrid of Neela and the young Elder Elizabeth had seen in the hologram room, her face smooth, with a shock of shining gray hair trailing down her back. She was dressed in white, and her face bore a glow Elizabeth had long ago learned to recognize as the mark of an Ascended.

The people gasped, and quickly retreated into stunned silence. John leaned over to her, whispering. "Is that…an…"

"Ascended? Yes, I believe so."

At her small smile some of the hardness in his face dissolved. "Well, that's a twist."

"Neela…" Karon trailed off, still staring with his mouth open.

"It is time you learned the truth of your race, Karon. It is time for everyone to learn.

"Immaria was created to be a safe haven—a new type of world, different from the ones previously created by the Ancestors. We Elders who formed it were looking for a solution to the problem of anger, disorder and chaos we so often found in worlds which claimed 'democracy' and 'justice'. Here we hoped to establish order and protection through a strict set of laws, which took into account what we believed were the strengths of different types of people.

"But if the experiment went wrong, we built in a failsafe—a Final law, which would render the others obsolete. A diplomatic way to revert from a system that failed into one we knew worked, for the most part—the system of our people on Atlantis.

"Of course, at the time we began this experiment we had only just engaged the Wraith. We did not realize we would abandon our ancestral home. When it became apparent that the tides had turned and we would not be able to defend our galaxy from the Wraith threat, it was decided that one of the five who had created this experiment would remain behind to oversee it. To ensure that the Final Testament was enacted if it was needed, when Atlantis was reborn again. That was my role in our people."

"But…your age…"

"There are many things you do not know of your ancestors, Karon. In my case, it was not difficult to disguise my presence over the course of time. People are observant, but not as much as you might expect."

Karon studied her for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion. "What _are_ you?"

Neela smiled. "I am the last Elder of Immaria. I was a healer for the Ancients. I am also of the direct line of your ancestors—many generations removed. You are the last family I have left."

"Why…why did you never say anything before? Why have you waited so long?"

She placed a hand on the cheek of the young man. "I wish I knew. At first I believed it was because I was waiting for the return of my people. Or news of Atlantis. That, at least, is what I told myself.

"When you brought Doctor Weir here, I knew it was time. Not only because of the rebirth of Atlantis, but because of what had become apparent in our own people. Immaria did not become the society we wished it to become. Though it had many beauties and strengths, what we had truly worked for—the equality and balance among all people—had not come to fulfillment. And people were beginning to suffer for it. People _did_ suffer for it. And now, they have died for it."

"Why couldn't you have spoken sooner?" he whispered in return. "Before…"

"I wish I had. I cannot justify it. The only answer I can give is that I was afraid. I did not know how our people would react—and I did not want to risk upsetting our stability. Not until the situation became desperate did I realize how truly wrong my inactions were. Desperation, unfortunately, is the most powerful proponent of change."

There was silence again, as the people mulled over this new development. Though they had believed all their lives in beings such as Neela, her revelation still had to be something of a shock. Elizabeth didn't envy them this moment. Or any of the future that was to come.

"And this is all you can say. You proclaim yourself our true Elder and then deem us unworthy of your ways," Thorvir spat. "Immaria is a failure in your eyes. How can you stand there and believe any of us would regard you with honor in return?"

"I do not," Neela replied firmly. "I do not expect people to easily forgive me. The failure is mine. But it is also yours, Thorvir—and all those of Immaria who knew the truth of the Testament. For generations your people have been trained in the true meaning of the laws of this civilization and for generations they have interpreted them to their own benefit—not for the purpose for which they were established. Today saw the final corruption of those words—when you would have taken our rules and twisted them with malice until nothing was left of what we sought. And this," she waved a hand towards Fasir, "is the result. Death."

She placed her hands on Karon's shoulders. "You are the one who can change this, Karon. It is within your power to begin a change for the better, as you have said. However, as Doctor Weir pointed out earlier, the choice remains with you. I have told you the truth of your laws, but you and our people will have to decide whether they wish this."

"You are our Elder," Karon said. "That makes you our leader."

"No. It does not. Immaria must choose someone who will represent the future of this world, not the past."

"And how would we do that? I do not know where even to begin."

"Why do you not ask her?" Neela asked, gesturing towards Elizabeth. "It is, after all, the will of the Testament to do as Atlantis has done."

Karon faced Elizabeth with a displeased look, at which John narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth shook her head slightly at him, and clasped her hands together.

"Believe it or not, we are not so different from you, Karon," she began cautiously, "I am the leader of Atlantis, but my power is not universal. I make decisions for the betterment of Atlantis, but I consult with my…warrior head, Colonel Sheppard, about military decisions, just as I consult with the other leaders on Atlantis about situations that may affect them—our Healer, and our scientists. In the same manner as you consult with your Guilds. We have rules and protocols we must follow, some of to which we are strictly bound, just like the Testament. And at times I am forced to exert my authority over everyone and make a decision that I believe is the best decision for all, even if not everyone agrees or understands."

"You are right," Karon snapped. "These are not so different from our practices. What does Atlantis offer that _is_ better?"

"Quite simply that on Atlantis, I am always held accountable for my actions. My people hold the power, not me. They trust me to do what is right for them, but they are aware of their rights, too, and if they ever doubt my intentions, then my authority over them would cease. They have a choice, and they have a voice, where my leadership is concerned. Our rules can be as strict as yours, but on Atlantis, we try to make them just, for the benefit of everyone and decided and supported _by_ them so that all may live equally."

He frowned, thinking. A look passed between he and Thorvir, the elder justice attempting some sort of persuasion to the contrary. But Karon's gaze travelled again to the bloodstained meadow and, finally, to Neela, who watched him with unspeaking eyes.

"So that all may live equally," he said finally.

"Do not choose this path, Karon," Thorvir murmured, pleading in his expression. "Do not."

The boy sighed, pity on his face. "I am sorry, Thorvir. But…I made a promise." He moved away from the justice and from Neela, turning to the crowd.

"Immarians…you have heard our choices, and the legacy our Elder offers us in this Final Testament. It demands change. A change from our ways to the ways of Atlantis. That is what it reads.

"But, as Doctor Weir pointed out, that change is only written words; it is not to be enacted without the will of our people. And this new way will require not only our vote, but also our equal part cooperation. We must all work to see it through, to ensure a better future for everyone within these walls.

"Now, I must ask you. Against the will of your Justices, and in contravention of what you know, is this a risk you are willing to take? Are you, the people of Immaria, willing to take a chance…for the better?"

As the echo of his words died away Elizabeth found herself holding her breath, her ribs aching with the effort. Nobody moved; nobody even breathed, it seemed.

"_Avert_."

She turned to the sound of the voice; Dravan looked sincerely at Karon, nodded her head and repeated it. "_Avert_."

John turned to her, his expression blank but his eyes questioning. Elizabeth leaned into him. "'Agreed'."

As he shook his head in acknowledgment, another voice called out from the crowd. "_Avert_."

And another. "_Avert_."

"_Avert_."

"_Avert_."

"_Avert_."

The chorus began to fill the meadow. Neela stood by, turning towards Elizabeth and smiling broadly. It wasn't everyone, but it was enough.

The cries of the majority echoed in unison through the city and off the stone walls, until it was impossible to hear. She caught sight of Ronon and Teyla staring around them in surprise, and Rodney also, mouth slightly open at the turn of events.

"This is _your_ fault!" hissed a voice to her right, almost inaudible beside the chanting crowd. She turned in time to see Thorvir stomping towards her, his face dark. "Unworthy female, you are…"

John moved swiftly, his fist connecting so forcefully with Thorvir's jaw there was a distinct cracking sound, and the former chieftain went tumbling backwards, rolling to the ground a few feet away.

Elizabeth stared back and forth between the now unconscious Thorvir and John, whose eyes were narrowed dangerously. It took a few moments before he was able to turn back to her, attempting to control his anger. "I probably should have asked you if I could do that."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Probably."

"He had it coming."

"I wouldn't exactly disagree with that."

He smiled, a little sadly. "Too little, too late?"

Elizabeth gazed around at the crowd, who were now talking to one another about what had just occurred. Karon, at the center of the melee, looked remorsefully to where Neela stood over Sita, using her cloak to cover the young girl's body.

A few hours earlier, she had believed her own life would end here. But it hadn't. She was alive. And now, she was safe.

She laid her hand upon his arm softly. "No. Not too late."

His gaze travelled to where she was touching him, the expression on his face awkward. But when he looked back up, his eyes wore an emotion she'd rarely seen from him. The intensity unsettled her a little bit and made her heart jump.

"Elizabeth…"

"Elizabeth?" Teyla's voice cut him off, a smile on her lovely face as she pushed toward them, holding out a hand. Elizabeth grasped it, and they touched foreheads softly before Teyla drew her into a hug. Ronon stood beside, wearing a bright smile, which was a little unnerving, coming from Ronon.

As Teyla released her, Rodney moved into view, tapping on his P-90 nervously.

"Rodney," she said in greeting, smiling at him.

"Elizabeth," he murmured back, his eyes darting from his hands to her face. He'd injured one of his fingers; it was purple and bandaged with a splint.

"Rodney, what happened?" she murmured.

"I…uh…oh, this? It's nothing." He waved the finger around for a moment. "Nothing…not like yours…I broke it."

"You broke it!?"

"Pulling dialing crystals out…" his eyes jumped back to her face, the nervousness fading. "Elizabeth…"

She studied him in confusion as he flexed his working fingers. Then, to her complete surprise, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

She nearly choked, but the embrace softened and allowed her to wrap her arms around him, gently returning it. When he released her he clapped her on the shoulders, nodding. "We, uh…we missed you."

Elizabeth could barely suppress her smile and John made no attempt to contain his. At the outskirts of their little group, the remainder of John's marines had broken quietly away from the crowd, forming a discreet but organized circle around them.

Evan Lorne stood at the head of them, and he nodded towards her, relief on his face. "Ma'am."

"Hello, Major."

"Glad to see you're safe, Doctor."

"Thank you. I'm glad to be safe."

There was a crackling sound, and hands flew up to the headsets in most ears. John listened, then nodded in response. He tapped the headset once. "Affirmative. Prepare to beam on my mark."

When he turned back to Elizabeth, his face was all business. "_Daedalus_ says Hermiod's disabled the beaming platform. They can beam us up."

"That's perfectly lousy timing," Rodney muttered.

"I'd say it was perfect timing," Elizabeth returned, as Karon and Neela made their way through the group of marines. "We've just been informed the ship above can beam us out of the Circle of Stones," she explained to them.

"So we'll be going," John added.

"You are not to stay?" Karon asked unenthusiastically. "You were the one who _precipitated_ this."

"I would be glad to advise your people on anything they might need to learn of a new system of governance. But to be honest, I'm not very keen on remaining here at the moment. I believe Neela will be able to explain most everything to them."

"I am not so certain, Doctor Weir. I have been trapped in this world for a great many years."

"Trapped? But I thought…"

"I was an Ascended?"

"Well, yes, to be honest."

Neela's smile faded. "In a sense I am, but not in the way with which you are probably familiar. While I attained the status of Ascended, my dedication to the Immarian experiment bound me to this planet. I was not allowed to join my brothers and sisters until the Final Testament was fulfilled."

"We're actually kinda familiar with those," John said. "We have a habit of running into the non-Ascended Ascendeds."

Elizabeth frowned at him for a moment before turning back to Neela. "And will you return now?"

"That will be up to my people," she said, glancing over the crowd. "Immaria has been my home for many, many years, and I am not quite ready to leave them just yet."

"Well, regardless, you certainly know more of the ways of the Ancients then I do," Elizabeth said. "You truly have no need of my help."

"The ways of the Ancients are old. Atlantis presents us with a new balance that I believe our people should learn of. We would appreciate your help in guiding us there."

"She's going home," John snapped back in a tone that brooked no argument. "She's been away from _her_ people too long."

"And so you would just leave my people in chaos without a second thought?" Karon snapped back, crossing his arms.

John's nostrils flared, but Elizabeth put a restraining hand on his chest and turned to the boy. "Karon, I won't lie to you and say that this won't be a difficult change for you to handle. But I think you are capable of handling it. You don't need my personal advice in exactly how to take command—and I don't think you'd particularly want it, anyway."

Karon's glower faded as Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "I know you don't have a lot of respect for me…"

"That is not…"

"…And let me assure you that's fine, because at the moment, honestly, the feeling's mutual. But that does not mean that I will not do everything in my power to provide your people with the support and guidance they will need in the coming months. And we will support you as a leader, because I think you'll make a good one, eventually. I can promise you, Immaria _will_ have what it needs from Atlantis to see this through."

John frowned at her; she gave him a reassuring smile, locking eyes with him as she spoke. "However, I do think it would be better for both our sakes if this were my last visit to Immaria for a while."

"I second that," John offered.

"I am certain Karon and those he chooses to assist him can find a way to employ what you offer while paving their own path, if that is what you feel is best. I have every confidence in him," Neela said.

Elizabeth nodded in response, gaze travelling to the expanse of meadow beyond Neela's shoulder. "So did Sita."

Karon's bitter expression faded. "I failed her."

"I don't believe you did. What you have started here today has done her faith in you every kind of justice. And I believe you will continue to be this way, for as long as you remember what she fought for."

"That, I could not forget," he returned sincerely.

"Nor will the rest of us," said Dravan, coming up behind them. "I did not understand, before, what troubled Sita. But I see now what she wished—and I am proud of her for it." She turned to face Teyla. "She has helped me to understand what you explained to us back in your home. I wish to apologize for my words—and especially my actions."

Teyla smiled back kindly, nodding her head. "Thank you. I believe your people are in capable hands."

"We must make it so," Karon said.

"And we would be most curious to learn how your warriors work within your system," she said, eyeing first Ronon, then John. "If your leaders would be willing."

John grinned uncomfortably. "We can maybe work something out."

"It would benefit all to learn of how your system works, warriors, scholars, scientists and leaders," Neela said. "Your reliance on one another gave you hope. That hope is what led to the salvation not just of Doctor Weir, but also Immaria. And that is a very great gift."

"Yes. It is," Elizabeth said.

"Then we must strive for it as well."

"It's time to go," John said. Elizabeth turned to him and he cleared his throat with a sideways glance at her.

"Goodbye," Karon said. Though his tone was stern, his expression was true enough. Grateful.

"Goodbye. I hope that someday we can meet as equals, Karon."

He studied her for a moment, caught between interest and indifference. "Perhaps. Someday. I will endeavor to be worthy of it."

As he headed back towards his people, Dravan in his wake, Neela turned to the rest of the group. "I hope we will have the opportunity to speak again."

"I hope so, too," said Elizabeth sincerely. "Thank you—for everything."

"It is I who should thank you. I can see now that my people had nothing to fear from those who followed in their footsteps. You have lived up to many expectations. I believe you shall continue to do so."

"Well, we try," John said, before Elizabeth could reply.

"Atlantis is always open to you, Neela. We would love to learn more about the Ancients."

"Perhaps some day we can discuss them, then. For the moment I am needed here, but perhaps I may arrange a return to my old home sometime in the future."

"Just don't bring any of them with you," Rodney sniped. Elizabeth turned to him in dismay, John bearing a similar expression of irritation on his face. "What?"

"We will take all necessary precautions," Neela said pleasantly. "Now, I believe it is time you returned to your ship. And if you would be so kind, Doctor McKay, please tell your Asgard to reset the beaming satellite when he has safely taken your party aboard. We will still need it in order to access the gate on this world."

Rodney stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, until she raised an eyebrow at him. "Right."

John tapped the headset in his ear. "Colonel Davis? This is Sheppard. We're ready for you to beam up the first wave."

Within seconds the first of the groups of marines began to disappear, taking some of the Immarians by surprise. Neela watched them contentedly, then started towards them.

"Will they be alright?" Elizabeth questioned. The Ancient turned back and smiled softly. "I have faith. So long as they have the proper guidance—which I believe they will. They are, after all, my chosen people."

As she turned away, the group re-gathered around Elizabeth, who sighed. Almost all the marines had gone, and John received final word that they would be beamed up momentarily.

"You are more than ready to return home, I am certain," Teyla said cheerfully.

Elizabeth nodded, feeling a sudden weight to her body. She shifted a bit, and tried to roll her neck. Aches and pains she'd forgotten in the chaos of the last hour returned, and she realized she felt weary. Much, much more weary than she'd felt in all her time here.

"Elizabeth?" Rodney's voice sounded slightly hollow.

"Rodney?" She eyed him, as darkness began to close in the world around her. "Rodney…"

"Elizabeth!"

The last thing she remembered was seeing the glowing form of Teyla disappear, John's arms wrapping around her as her legs gave way, and the sensation of the ground disappearing beneath her into a bright yellow light.


	30. Home

"Hang on, she's coming around."

John tapped on his belt impatiently as the young medic attending Elizabeth monitored her pulse. Elizabeth blinked a few times, trying to focus on the person next to her. Not recognizing him, she shot up from the bed in panic, gasping.

He moved towards her but the doctor held out a hand, freezing him in his tracks, and grasped Elizabeth's shoulders. "Doctor Weir, relax, please. You're safe now. You need to remain calm or you'll pull out the IV."

"What?" She glanced around, her unsteady gaze taking in the medical bay, decorated with beeping equipment and monitors.

She studied everything for a moment, the panic slowly fading from her face when she caught sight of him. "John? Where am I?"

"The _Daedalus_ infirmary," John said, taking the opportunity to move to the edge of her bed. "You fainted on us."

As he approached her, a small, semi-amused lit up her face. "I did, huh? Well, how very dramatic of me."

He moistened his lips. He'd missed the smile, and the gentle sarcasm, though he hadn't realized how much until now. "Well, a week of dehydration, poor nutrition and general prisoner-of-war conditions will do that to you." He nodded at the IV. "They thought you needed it."

"Why aren't we back on Atlantis?"

John's smile grew as the medic dismissed himself, stepping into the hall. "I felt like you might want to take that walk yourself. Though my carrying you through the gate would definitely have ratcheted up that drama factor."

Her eyebrow shot up higher. "Thank you for sparing me that. Have you at least contacted them?"

"Not exactly."

"John."

"What can I say?" He grinned mischievously. "I like surprises. And honestly I want to see the look on Woolsey's face when you come back safe and sound."

"Woolsey? Why was he…"

"As a replacement. Can't say many on the base were too happy about it."

"He's a good diplomat. And he'd be a good head of the Expedition."

"We already have a good head of the Expedition, thank you very much."

"Thanks." To his surprise, she suddenly blushed and looked away.

He shrugged, feeling awkward. "It's the truth."

"No…I mean thanks. For coming to find me. For not giving up."

He studied her for a moment, his smile fading. "We don't leave our people behind, Elizabeth. You know that. And we sure as hell don't let them get stolen from under our noses without a fight."

"I know that, it's just…had anyone else been gone as long as I was…I don't know if I would have authorized you to continue."

"Yes, you would have," he replied sternly. "As long as there was hope, you absolutely would have and don't think you can try and convince me otherwise."

"You really think you know me that well, do you?" she murmured.

"Well, after three years—you become a little transparent." The memory of their first trip through the gate to meet the Immarians flashed through his mind, when he'd asked himself that very question and she'd answered him without even realizing it.

She pushed up from the bed, shaking for a moment, and yanked out the IV needle. He made a face, holding out his arms. "I don't think that's…"

"If you know me that well, then you know I'm not going to spend the next few hours hanging around here," she replied. "I want to go back to Atlantis. Where is everybody else?"

"Well, Rodney decided to offer his 'support' to Hermiod in re-enabling the Immarian beaming satellite. He wanted to fix it before beaming us back to the planet's surface near the gate. Teyla and Ronon are outside."

"Well, radio him. I want to get back."

"Hold on a minute," he said, grasping hold of her quickly as she slid out of bed, wobbling unsteadily. "You think maybe we should wait, you know, let the doc check you out?"

"John, I want to go home." Elizabeth fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Please."

He frowned, then sighed and tapped the radio in his ear. There was no fighting her when she gave him that look. "McKay? How's the beam thing coming?"

"_It's not_."

"How long before it is?"

"_You really want to get into this again?_"

"Rodney…"

"_Look, the more time you spend harassing me, the less time we have devoted to figuring out this thing. Do you want to go home sooner rather than later? And how's Elizabeth?"_

"She's fine. She wants to go home. Now."

"_She does? Shouldn't she be resting, or something?"_

"Have you ever tried to talk her out of something that she wants?" Elizabeth made a face at him and edged out of his grasp.

"_Good point. But she's just going to have to be patient…I'm not sure when…_"

Elizabeth extended a hand towards him, her expression suddenly stern. He didn't bother to question, just yanked the headset from his ear and handed it to her.

She fixed it to her ear and tapped the button. "Rodney?"

Apparently there was a flurry of a response, because she listened for a moment, her eyes crinkling in confusion. "Rodney? Rodney, I'm fine. How much longer until Hermiod has everything ready?"

Another pause, and her tone grew determined. "Rodney."

John grinned as she rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. Tell him we'll be there in five minutes." She clicked off the radio and handed it back.

"And where are we going?"

"The bridge."

John slipped the headset back into his ear with one hand, using the other to steady her. She was still weak and obviously in pain, pausing after the first few steps. The sight of her helpless was almost more than he could stand and he wasn't sure what to do about it short of lifting her off her feet, which he was pretty sure she'd have a problem with.

When she opened her eyes he shifted his grip a little. "You alright?"

"I will be," she murmured.

"We can wait here, you know, he can pretty much beam us out of anywhere on the ship."

"I need to thank Colonel Davis for his assistance."

"Davis knows…"

"John, you're almost worse than Carson, you know that?"

"Alright, fine. You're the boss. But I will say I draw the line at walking you over to naked aliens."

Her lip pouted out slightly. "I need to thank him, too, as he did most of the work."

"Always the diplomat." He made a face.

"Sorry. You'll just have to deal with him or let me go on my own."

"How long do I have to think about it?"

She tossed him a wry look, but held on to his arm as they exited the infirmary. Just outside, Teyla and Ronon were seated, engaged in quiet conversation, which ceased when they saw Elizabeth.

"Come on," John murmured to them. "We're going home."

He was certain Teyla, at least, had some objections, but Ronon wore a pleased smile that seemed to ward her off saying anything. In fact, Ronon marched himself to the front of Elizabeth, acting so much like a proud personal bodyguard that it caught John by surprise.

The slow pace to the bridge allowed Rodney some additional time beyond the five minutes. Some of the military officers slid to the side to allow them to pass, a few taking the time to salute her. Elizabeth acknowledged all of them, finally releasing his arm as they drew near their destination. The support of the people seemed to give her strength, not to mention the fact that she was damn stubborn.

Davis was seated in the Captain's chair and he rose as she approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Doctor Weir. Ma'am, it's good to see you up and about."

"Thank you, Colonel. I wanted to take the time to thank you and all your crew personally for your efforts."

"It was nothing, ma'am. We're just glad you're safe and sound," he beamed at her again and John felt a little less impressed with Caldwell's stand-in.

Rodney was standing over next to Hermiod, and John did his best to keep a straight face as they approached the Asgard's workstation.

"How's it coming?" Elizabeth asked.

"We are almost finished," said the Asgard in his monotone pitch. "As I have explained to Doctor McKay—numerous times—the process is a delicate one."

"Thank you for taking the time."

"You are most welcome, Doctor Weir. And may I say that we are all pleased to find that you are well."

It was the most emotional thing he'd ever heard an Asgard say, and even he had to raise his eyebrows at it.

"We are ready," the alien droned a moment later.

She turned to him, the excitement palpable in her eyes. Despite his reservations about her condition, he suddenly felt overjoyed at the prospect of seeing her home. "Well, then, so are we."

--/--

"Unscheduled off-world activation," Chuck called in surprise, as klaxons blasted through the gateroom. The gate initiated and locked down as Caldwell and Woolsey headed into the control area, watching as the shield rose before them. They looked expectantly at the gate technician, waiting.

"Colonel Sheppard's IDC," he replied after a moment.

"Open a channel," Caldwell remarked, heading towards the stairs. "And lower the shield."

Woolsey exchanged a tenuous glance with him as he tapped on his headset. "Colonel."

"We come bearing gifts," said Sheppard. "Well, rather, one gift."

He sounded exhausted, but it was the lift in his tone that lightened Stephen's steps and quickened his pace. Around him, members of the expedition who'd heard Sheppard's remark crowded towards the edges of the railings, each struggling for a glimpse of the returning team.

The wormhole's glittering pool parted to allow Sheppard and his team to pass through. They were bearing smiles, no small surprise considering the person they escorted between them.

--/--

Elizabeth paused as the gateroom materialized before her, taking a moment to drink in the lush colors and brightness of the city she loved so well.

Her gaze drifted to the familiar glass walls of her office, to the shiny metal of the inner balcony, and finally, to the open air of the control center, where Chuck and Radek Zelenka stood side by side, their faces glowing. A dozen more expedition members lined the upper railings beside them, smiling down at her.

More people were gathered in the corners of the gateroom, while others were making their way in from the corridors. Familiar faces also lined the steps leading to the upper part of the room, which Colonel Stephen Caldwell was walking down, trailed by Richard Woolsey.

She stepped forward on the dais to greet them as the remainder of the marines tromped into the city. The wormhole shut down by the time Stephen reached her, wearing a rare smile.

He couldn't disguise the concern at her appearance, but there was nothing she could do to change it. It was what it was, and truthfully, it no longer mattered.

"Colonel Caldwell," she rasped, her voice tired and a little hoarse. She hadn't realized how weary she sounded.

"Doctor Weir. It's good to see you, Ma'am."

"It's good to see you too, Colonel. And you, Mr. Woolsey."

"Doctor Weir. I am glad to find you safe and sound and back on Atlantis. We were all very concerned."

"I'm sure you were," she replied with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry you've come all this way for nothing."

"To be honest Elizabeth, I'm not." He offered her a sincere smile and nod. "I'm perfectly content to return to Earth with nothing but the good news of your safe return."

His sincerity drained her of humor, and her eyes stung. "Thank you, Richard."

"You're very welcome."

Some of the crowd to the far right parted as the medical team made their way through, Carson at the head.

"Elizabeth! Oh, thank god," he cried as they drew near her, raising laughter from most of the expedition. "Are you all right? What the…what the hell did they do to you?"

"I'm fine, Carson."

"I'm the medical doctor, I'll be the one to determine that. We need to get you down to the infirmary."

She reached a hand out towards him, laying it on his shoulder. "I'm fine, I promise. It can wait."

More people were crowding into the room now, and she gazed back over the mass of them, studying their eager expressions, many joyful smiles beaming from faces that were careworn and looked as exhausted as she felt.

It was a testament to their loyalty, and their faith, that they had not given up on her. That they had worked tirelessly, as John and the others had, to find her. A testament to the spirit of the new people of Atlantis, one of which the Ancients who had once resided here could be very proud.

"Thank you," she choked out. The room grew very quiet as she straightened. "I know this must have been hard, for all of you. But thank you. For your time and dedication, and your faith, both in me and in what you could do here. That was what kept me alive and that is what brought me back to Atlantis. Back home."

A lump filled her throat and she paused, trying to gather herself. John moved alongside her, nudging her shoulder.

"Welcome back, Doctor Weir," he said, loud enough for the expedition to hear.

As she looked back up to him, a smile spreading across her face, Richard Woolsey clapped. Those around him quickly joined in, until the gateroom echoed with the applause, the expedition members showing their gratitude and their joy.

John leaned closer to her, whispering into her ear over the thunder of sound.

"Elizabeth, welcome home."

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone--for the kind reviews and the patience as I worked my way through this story. Some parts ended up being rather difficult to get through, but I hope those who read this got some enjoyment out of it. I certainly had fun writing it. Thank you again. :)_


	31. Epilogue

_A/N: For my Sparkies…_

Elizabeth closed her eyes, allowing the lapping of the ocean against Atlantis's great pier to soothe her back into calm.

She hadn't thought much about the ocean during her time in Immaria, but it was only when she returned to the balcony, listening to the waves for the first time in days, that she realized how much she'd missed the sound and the smell of the salt water. There was such serenity on the balcony; something primordial and peaceful that couldn't be found anywhere else.

She loved it up here—it had been a favorite spot since they first came to Atlantis; a haven at times when nothing seemed to be going right or something bothered her. The balcony both soothed her nerves and reminded her why she had come to Pegasus in the first place.

The door behind her slid open with its signature _whoosh_ and she lifted her head, though she didn't open her eyes. The footsteps were so wonderfully familiar she had no need to look to know who was coming.

"How's it going?" she murmured.

"Woolsey's agreed," John's pleasant voice broke through the silence, his tone tinged with amusement. "The IOA wasn't thrilled about having him gone for so long, but the trade-off of an Ancient who might actually give us some good intel, plus all the technology in that beaming platform, was too good to pass up."

"He'll be a good representative."

"I'd like to see how he handles that kid. I might even go back there, just for the chance to see them go at it."

She opened her eyes, turning her head towards him. "I don't think that's a good idea."

He smiled good-naturedly. "Maybe not."

"Richard will do well working within the context of their 'legal' system. And as he's a man, he'll automatically have a leg up in negotiations."

"Are you sure?" John's expression turned mischievous. "Because truthfully I've got some doubts on that front."

She tried to fix him with a chastising look, but it was no use. He was too amusing for his own good. She turned to her face to the sky instead, breathing in more of the salt air as he leaned forward, placing both his hands on the rail. "Nice night."

"It is." She caught a glimpse of his face out of her periphery, enjoying the sparkle that now lit his eyes. The stubble was gone, too, as was weariness. It had taken a few days to straighten out all their nerves, but he looked no different now than when she'd last seen him here, dressed in what Teyla referred to as 'the shirt in which he feels most comfortable', a standard military button down with the sleeves rolled up.

It was good to see.

"Nice outfit," he remarked, startling her. She wondered when he'd started being able to read her thoughts.

"Thanks." The black zip-up tracksuit, along with a new red top, had been a gift from SGC to replace the regulation uniform she'd lost on Immaria. Funny to think regulation wear could be a gift, but she'd been touched they'd even thought of so small a detail.

"So, has Carson cleared you for active duty yet?"

"You mean has he allowed me to get back to work? No. I'm banned from reading anything 'without illustrations,' as he puts it, until tomorrow. Thankfully, Colonel Caldwell has been keeping me up to date through oral reports as far as the progress within the city, as well as general details about the search, which cuts down on the amount I'll have to catch up on. Mostly it'll be going over the specifics of what happened during my capture."

He cleared his throat and flashed a small smile at her, the sparkle in his eyes fading. "Well, I'm sure you'll manage it. It's just paperwork, right?"

"Some. Though apparently I have to make a few off-world visits as well."

John's head snapped towards her, all trace of good humor gone in a flash. "Off-world? Don't you think you've had enough off-world for one week?"

"Yes, well, these particular visits appear necessary. Considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Well, let's see—according to one report a local governor was threatened with bodily harm; in another a jumper flyby complete destroyed a few acres of cropland; in another, one of our less-than-trustworthy allies was pretty much told Atlantis was completely severing all ties with his people…"

"Ah…"

"And then, of course, there's the Genii…"

John shifted uncomfortably. "Look, as far as Ladon is concerned…"

"I think I need to speak with him face to face, don't you? All things considered?"

"All things considered?" John frowned, twisting towards her and resting one hand on his hip. "All things 'considered', he had it coming to him. He was sketchy the first time we met him, and no matter how many bloodless coups he succeeds at or how many times he claims the Genii have turned over a new leaf, as far as I'm concerned he's always going to be sketchy. I only wish I could have laid him out sooner."

"Laid him out?" Elizabeth's eyebrow rose sharply. "You laid out Ladon Radim? When did this happen?"

He paused mid-breath, eyes widening. "I…uh…what were you talking about?"

"About the fact that it was the Genii who connected the Neronians to the Immarians. I figure for as much manpower as they put into the search, I deserved to thank them personally. Apparently, I need to do a little more than that! What happened?"

"Nothing drastic…it was more like a…misunderstanding…"

He was entering the John Sheppard roundabout way of explaining things, which could take all night. She decided to try a different approach. "Does Caldwell know about this?"

John's eyes shifted to the post above him and he made a face. "Maybe."

"Then you might as well tell me now, because I'm going to read about it anyway and I promise it's going to be quite detailed. What happened?"

His fingers tapped the rail. "I guess you could say he acted like a Genii."

"Like a Genii."

"You know, deceitful, subversive…sketchy…"

"Did he lie to you?"

"Not exactly."

"John…"

"Look, he acted like they had intel on where you were and at first glance it seemed like he was playing a game with it. I might have overreacted. A little."

"How much is 'a little'?"

He met her gaze for the first time. "I pinned him to a desk."

Her hand automatically went up to the bridge of her nose. "John…"

"It was no less than he deserved—than he's deserved for a _while_."

"John, I know I don't have to explain to you the importance of maintaining diplomatic relations with the Genii…"

"No, you don't."

"And I'm not saying that it doesn't hurt every once in a while to remind them what we bring to the table…"

"I agree."

"But engaging Ladon in a wrestling match is probably not the best way to go about that."

"Hey," he bent his head a little, stepping closer to her. "I was very diplomatic up until the part where he somehow managed to figure out exactly why we were there without us telling them _anything_. Considering the Genii, that seemed pretty suspicious."

"And did you ever stop to consider he knows us pretty well by now? If it wasn't me who initially contacted him and you didn't tell him why I didn't call him first, what else would he have thought?"

John's face twisted into a frown. "That's what he said."

"Imagine that." She widened her eyes suggestively and moved to turn away, but he grabbed her, turning her to face him.

"We didn't know where you were." The grip on her shoulders tightened. "Everything we were coming up with was a dead end. Nobody could find anything. Nobody knew anything. Nobody could figure anything out. We just…didn't know. Anything. By the time we went to Ladon…" He paused, releasing her, and turned his gaze to the sky. "Okay, it was a stupid move. But…I…we…"

"You were worried."

"Something like that," he stuttered.

"Well, I can't say I blame you. I was, too."

He looked at her sharply, the saddest expression in his eyes she'd ever seen. She felt an unfamiliar ache flutter through her chest and turned away so she didn't have to see his face.

"Not about me," she continued hurriedly. "Just a fear that you would never know what really happened. Why it had happened."

"None of that mattered," he answered a moment later, through gritted teeth.

"No. But I would have wanted you to know just the same."

"Were you ever…did you ever think…"

"That you wouldn't come for me?" She paused for a moment, her heartbeat quickening at the memory of those last few hours hiding in the circle, slinking through the shadows and wondering why he hadn't come. "There was a moment when I thought something had stopped you. I thought maybe…"

"We'd given up?"

"No." Elizabeth turned back to him with a serious expression. "No. I would never think that, John. If you didn't come for me it was because you couldn't, not because you'd given up. Three years of knowing you made that the one thing I was certain of throughout that whole ordeal."

He watched her, his eyes stilled pained, unable to offer her anything beyond his support at her side. It was enough, and yet it wasn't.

A strange feeling; an emptiness, or loneliness, filled her chest, and she thought of Sita, spending her entire life loving someone from afar but never truly trusting him. Fearing him and fearing for him without being able to really know him.

Dying with regret.

Karon had been right, in one regard. Elizabeth did not know what it was like to live a lie. She trusted John—trusted all of them—beyond the shadow of a doubt. Almost more than she trusted herself.

She looked back up at him as he studied her in concern, hesitated, and then pushed forward into his arms.

He stiffened almost immediately, which made her smile. John Sheppard was incredibly predictable about certain things, and his awkward reaction to displays of human emotion definitely qualified. She wasn't very good at them either, but this felt right and he seemed to understand. After a moment he relaxed a little bit, one hand patting her shoulder softly, the other cradling the back of her head. And he surprised her, too; for a brief second she felt him pull her closer, the side of his head just touching hers.

When she drew away a few moments later he couldn't quite meet her eyes, at least not initially; but she expected that. She was having a hard time trying to figure out exactly what to do with her hands. Clearing her throat, she stepped to the side. "Sorry."

That drew his attention. "You don't have to…"

"I know. But if I crossed a line…"

"You didn't," he said, his expression softening. "Not any that matter to me, anyway."

"Good." She cleared her throat again and linked her fingers together. "So, do you any plans for tonight, Colonel?"

"No…" he eyed her warily. "Why?"

"Well…I was wondering…"

"What?" The sparkle slowly returned to his eyes. "You thinking of taking Teyla up on those additional sparring lessons?"

"Huh? No, I…you're really going to insist on those, aren't you?"

"Hey, they're worth it. I can radio her now, I think she's with Ronon in the mess."

"No! No, that's all right. For one thing, Carson would probably have a heart attack and for a second…I was kinda hoping we could do an impromptu movie night."

"Movie night?" He grinned saucily. "I thought you were too 'busy' for those. I seem to recall that being the excuse for missing the last few."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I happen to have some free time at the moment."

"Beckett's not going to have a problem with you staring at flashing lights and listening to surround sound for a couple of hours?"

"What he doesn't know…"

"So you can break the rules!"

"Very funny."

"I think a movie night can be arranged. What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know. Any suggestions? Which don't involve spears of any kind."

His smile disappeared for half a second as she moved past him into the gateroom. "Right. Well—the new pirate movie is in."

"Pirates?"

"We also have some classics on hand. _Bullitt_, best car chase in the history of cinema. Or _The Searchers_, with John Wayne, can't beat that. Or _The_ _Abyss_, a personal favorite."

"Any and or all of those seem fine."

"_When Harry met Sally_."

She paused on one of the steps of the staircase, frowning down at him. "You like that movie?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "It's a classic."

"Okay…well, I haven't seen any of those and I trust you. Pick what you will."

"You sure about that? You might regret it."

"With your taste? Never." They passed by the gate, nodding at the marines on duty.

"You really trust me that much?"

She smiled. "Always."

"Weeeeeell," he grinned back. "Let's go for _Alien_ then. Great directing, awesome special effects and a kickass heroine. Plus, you'll get the added benefit of hearing Rodney scream like a little girl."

"And that's always enjoyable," she returned sarcastically, eyeing him with a smirk.

"Anything to make the boss happy."

They'd reached the transporter. She strode inside, raising a hand to the flash panel and tapping the region for the recreational room. "I like the sound of that."

He stepped in beside her, hands on hips and a smile on his face, leaning over until he was close enough to bump her shoulder. "You know what? Me, too."

--FIN--


End file.
